When I was young, my mother had a standing appointment every Saturday with Linda the Hairdresser.
I’d sit in one of the chairs, waiting, listening to the women chatter and complain about men. You know. The usual stuff.
Occasionally Linda the Manicurist (everyone was named Linda back then) would do my nails. I think she did it to be nice, but between you and me, I hated it.
Continue reading “Beauty Salons Make Me Nervous. Here’s Why.”
You may remember my post from last Saturday. I gave a writing prompt involving a cast off pair of undies and challenged you all to write a little story about it.
Many people visited the post, many clicked on the picture for a close-up of the undies, and many clicked on my “contact me” page, as if they were considering submitting a tale. (Can you tell I’m addicted to my stats page?)
Alas, no tale was submitted. This leads me to believe one of four things happened:
Continue reading “On Freedom and Fear and All That Lies Between”