October 9, 2013 - El Perro Salvaje
I love MY hairstylist. I’ll call her “El” (not her real name.)
OK, she is the hairstylist of many people, in spite of my using the “possessive.” How is El so loveable? Let me count the ways.
· She can change me from a looking like a feral creature to a social human - with a little hair dye, some exquisite scissoring, a dollop of goop, and lots of attention.
· El has a degree in English Literature. She got that degree first, but her first love was HAIR, so the day she graduated she signed up for Hairstyling School. This means we can talk “books.”
· She used to teach at a hairstyling school. This ensures she has the patience of Job’s wife, nothing shocks her, and she has a GREAT sense of humour.
· El is happy to listen to me and others – I have to share - talk about the challenges we are facing. And she is happy to offer an opinion, if you ask for one. And she has sound judgment
· One of her decorating colours is chocolate brown. I want to munch on the doors and window sills when she’s not looking. Such a yummy looking salon.
· El has two cute little dogs that are very well behaved (and nicely groomed. No surprise here.) This means we can talk “furry friends.”
*****
Is there anything I don’t like about El? Yes, driving out of her parking lot, because the minute I’m out the door, my hair starts acting up again. Here is a parallel you might be able to relate to. Let’s say you have a slow-witted, misbehaving dog. You take it to Dog Behaviour classes. It is the most clueless and worst behaved dog in the class, and everyone is grateful they don’t have a dog like yours. Then the Class Leader takes the lead of your dog and, all a sudden, it becomes bright as a new penny and a creature who knows instinctively what its trainer wants – even when the dog is passed back to you. Then everyone thinks you are the worst dog owner ever.
And your dog is brilliant and docile until you leave - whereupon it has two hours worth of idiocy and energy to disperse in the twenty feet of getting to your car. (And it only gets worse until the next class.) Then everyone KNOWS you are the bottom-feeder of dog owners. You get what I’m sayin’ here?!
(In case you don’t – unruly hair is like an untrained dog. I might not have got it either.)
*****
For reasons unknown to me, I wanted one of my daughters to be a hairstylist. I suggested this to my third child (second daughter) Carolyn, when she was between jobs. She has a degree in English and has beautiful hair. She said to me, “Think about it Mom. Would you trust me near your ears and neck with a pair of sharp scissors?”
Hmm. Maybe not with an exacto knife – I do remember that trip to Emergency and the large letter Z she has on her thumb following her reconstructive surgery. And come to think of it, I remember the hatchet job she did on her own hair when she was a tot, and how she cut off our cat’s whiskers when my back was turned.
I guess there is a difference between having a propensity for scissors and skill with scissors… (though Caro is actually very good with unruly dogs.)
OK, she is the hairstylist of many people, in spite of my using the “possessive.” How is El so loveable? Let me count the ways.
· She can change me from a looking like a feral creature to a social human - with a little hair dye, some exquisite scissoring, a dollop of goop, and lots of attention.
· El has a degree in English Literature. She got that degree first, but her first love was HAIR, so the day she graduated she signed up for Hairstyling School. This means we can talk “books.”
· She used to teach at a hairstyling school. This ensures she has the patience of Job’s wife, nothing shocks her, and she has a GREAT sense of humour.
· El is happy to listen to me and others – I have to share - talk about the challenges we are facing. And she is happy to offer an opinion, if you ask for one. And she has sound judgment
· One of her decorating colours is chocolate brown. I want to munch on the doors and window sills when she’s not looking. Such a yummy looking salon.
· El has two cute little dogs that are very well behaved (and nicely groomed. No surprise here.) This means we can talk “furry friends.”
*****
Is there anything I don’t like about El? Yes, driving out of her parking lot, because the minute I’m out the door, my hair starts acting up again. Here is a parallel you might be able to relate to. Let’s say you have a slow-witted, misbehaving dog. You take it to Dog Behaviour classes. It is the most clueless and worst behaved dog in the class, and everyone is grateful they don’t have a dog like yours. Then the Class Leader takes the lead of your dog and, all a sudden, it becomes bright as a new penny and a creature who knows instinctively what its trainer wants – even when the dog is passed back to you. Then everyone thinks you are the worst dog owner ever.
And your dog is brilliant and docile until you leave - whereupon it has two hours worth of idiocy and energy to disperse in the twenty feet of getting to your car. (And it only gets worse until the next class.) Then everyone KNOWS you are the bottom-feeder of dog owners. You get what I’m sayin’ here?!
(In case you don’t – unruly hair is like an untrained dog. I might not have got it either.)
*****
For reasons unknown to me, I wanted one of my daughters to be a hairstylist. I suggested this to my third child (second daughter) Carolyn, when she was between jobs. She has a degree in English and has beautiful hair. She said to me, “Think about it Mom. Would you trust me near your ears and neck with a pair of sharp scissors?”
Hmm. Maybe not with an exacto knife – I do remember that trip to Emergency and the large letter Z she has on her thumb following her reconstructive surgery. And come to think of it, I remember the hatchet job she did on her own hair when she was a tot, and how she cut off our cat’s whiskers when my back was turned.
I guess there is a difference between having a propensity for scissors and skill with scissors… (though Caro is actually very good with unruly dogs.)