Revelations at the Hair dresser.

~I go to a hair dresser, who I love to go see. Not because she's amazing at doing hair, in fact she's the very one who Screwed up my husband's hair. I like to go see her, because going to see her, is like going to see an old friend, and frankly I don't care too much about having my hair just right. I walk into the basement of her southern home, and this Puerto Rican woman, with big hair and an equally big personality, greets me with a hug, and a genuine, "How are you?" She wants to know, because she's going to pray as she's washing my hair.

Today we talked about how grown ups need to act more like kids every once in awhile, slow things down to their pace, noticing the ants on the sidewalk, and laughing at the spilt water. To not plan too far ahead, because "today has enough troubles of it's own," and to enjoy little things, like the way our babies hands look now, because they'll not look that way again.

She finished up my hair, and after a long hug, I walked out with hair a little shorter than I wanted, and poofed to the sky, but with a smile on my face, and inspiration to enjoy and live within the moments of the day.