My hair keeps getting more expensive. But I still enjoy my salon visits. No hand massage this time (they were crazy busy with the pre-Christmas madness), but a very excellent head massage. And coffee with Baileys. Hell, they offered me two. Heh. And Cristina used something she called “hair cocaine”, but told me not to buy it because it’s really expensive and mostly for people with thin, sparse hair, to build volume. Umm, okay. I also had another handbag sighting. Those crack me up. From time to time someone will label-recognize the Burberry and ask a) if it’s real, b) where I got it, or c) both. Needless to say they hate my guts when I tell them it is real, and it was free. (From what I have seen it would retail for $500 or more over here, which is stupid.) I never mention that I’ve gotten paint on it several times. ๐Ÿ™‚ Then the girl who did the sighting had to tell me all about Burberry’s men’s cologne and how amazing it is. “I would date it. Seriously.” Alrighty then.

Then when Cristina had finished working me over (including a face powdering to de-shine and remove hair bits, and lip gloss cuz… I’m not glam enough, I guess), I got a hug. A hug? I’ve prided myself all my life for not being one of Those Women at the salon, but apparently now we’re BFF. Oh well. Long as she keeps being an awesome stylist, I can deal with a hug.

I was also wandering around Pier 1 pre-hair appointment, mostly to kill time, but also looking for a candle to pleasantly stinkify my brother’s house before the open house, and to get Christmas gift ideas. I bought one candle for me (“Zanzibar Clove”) and one for Chad’s house (“Pumpkin Spice”). It occurred to me what the familiarity of the clove candle is (which doesn’t actually smell clove-esque). It smells like the Work Husband. Heh. There was another candle I smelled at the mall, too, that smelled like Sherry. I forget what the scent was. The idea of people-scented candles is weird. But pleasant. Especially with nostrils as big as mine. ๐Ÿ™‚

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