My hair smells yummy

I think it's a combination of lavender, eucalyptus, and something else that seems expensive, like maybe French perfume.  In any case, I can't stop pulling clumps of it to my nose to sniff.  Yep, just did it again. Mmmmm ...

I was long overdue for a haircut, and the water in Africa (in addition to giving some of my team mates cholera) wasn't exactly nurturing. About the best I could muster up was a 'do Robyn calls a "snot knot," which is when you pull all of your hair up to the top of your head and twist it into a not-so-smooth scrunchie ... and then quickly walk away from the mirror.

Here was my other clue it was time for sharp scissors and salon-quality products. One evening last week, as we scarfed down big plates of pasta out on our tiny patio, Matt asked, "Are you getting your hair done next week?" I chose to think he was simply expressing interest in my schedule.

So today I went to see Vanessa at the Orpheum Salon, and experienced a morning I will affectionately refer to hereafter as Orpheum Bliss (on second thought, that sounds like an inappropriate film set in ancient Greece). Whatever.  I love the way my hair smells.  And the provencal decor of the salon, too -- boudoir chandeliers, enormous mirrors framed in ash-colored oak, and turn-of-the-century pharmaceutical cabinetry. Charmant.

And Vanessa?  I want to go over to her house and bake cookies. She has tremendously thick, curly hair, and she blogs about being organized. To commemorate the royal wedding, once a week, she writes Monarch Mondays.  I took one look at her blue toenail polish and knew I'd found a friend.

Never mind that I spent $6 on parking to be pampered for a couple of hours.  When Matt gets home on Thursday, he'll say something sweet about my hair. I will say, "Thank you."

And we'll leave it at that.