The African Braiding Parlour...

Both saved and consumed the day. The salon with whom I had made arrangements to get braids, beginning at 9 a.m. this morning, proved to be a no go. I was there at 8:55. By 9:30 after calling from my cell phone while I stood right outside the building and being told to "wait," I hailed the next cab home, looked through the phone book, found the place referenced above, and headed on over there.

I got there at about 10 a.m.; work began on my hair almost immediately, but it was apparent that it would be slow going. 'Patience, Grasshopper,' I thought to myself. I reminded myself that I was committed to a very detailed process, that if I wanted good results, could not, and should not be rushed.

One of the stylists had her infant girl tied tightly to her back with a large scarf. When the baby was not slung to her mother's lower back, she could be found resting in the arms of one of the customers while her mother performed a particularly difficult braid maneuver. I desperately wished I would get an opportunity to coddle her. She woke up from her mid afternoon nap crying with hunger. I was handed her and her bottle as though there was no question of my willingness to feed her. It was the highlight of my day. Both of her ears are already pierced with two holes each.

I called Ms. F to confirm plans for our get together tomorrow, and got Mr. R instead. Since I was still two hours out from being finished, I lamented my fate in the chair, and got his usual reply of "Good Lord!" when I told him how long I'd been there and what remained to be done. My cell phone cut us off, and I debated not calling back, but I did. I think he was waiting, because he answered immediately. He was heading up to his parents' to begin his house/pet sitting gig, but encouraged me to call him and e-mail him. Said he couldn't wait to see the braids.

I don't think I've ever looked prettier.