If driving skills determined our mates, I'd be on the arm of an 80 year old man.
(I have horrible eyesight, especially at night. I'm not ashamed of you knowing that about me.)
I managed to find the salon just fine yesterday.
(I did a drive by in the daytime. I would have never found it in the dark and the rain and the directions I was given by the receptionist.)
I knew I'd be in good hands last night. The guy I went to is the husband of the lady that normally does my hair.
(Background info: She's been doing my hair since high school. When I lived in Wisconsin I would schedule appointments for when I knew we'd be in town. She's now an hour away from where I live and it's pretty impossible to schedule with her. Her clientele has grown and it takes months to get in. She lives near me, so I asked if she could recommend anyone, not knowing her husband worked so close.)
I love the color and the cut. He did an awesome job and I'll definitely go back, bad receptionist and all.
Vance told me my hair looked beautiful this morning.
(4 year olds are great for boosting your ego.)
To celebrate, I'll be taking my hair (and kids) to the grocery store. The list is scary and long. Here's hoping that Vaughn will be enamored with my beautiful hair long enough to get me through the list!