Friday, April 2, 2010
I'm not sure I should share this whole story but this photograph, taken last January, brought it all back. Last summer in Paris, I momentarily took leave of my senses. I felt the need of a little trim, so I waltzed right in a salon near our apartment, and with the help of an English speaking client, made an appointment for a haircut later in the week. I shared my grand idea with my daughter Melissa and Peter. They both looked at me in disbelief. My daughter went on to question my sanity. It went something like, " Are you crazy? You're going to let someone cut your hair that speaks no English and you don't speak all that much French???" Peter was more diplomatic, as always. He just looked at my hair and said, " I don't think you need to cut it". In the end, I didn't go and regrettably didn't cancel as there was that damnable "language thing"! I still wonder what kind of wonderful coiffure I could have had. Maybe next time I'll throw caution to the wind! I'll keep you posted.