I had a lovely evening with V prior to Catchka's arrival (we talked on Thursday about her coming back to spend the night on Friday) last night. V and I went to the Owl Bar and both got the pecan-encrusted Mahi Mahi with banana risotto special and just caught up on the latest. C and I just hung out and watched "Something New" on DVD while snacking on M&Ms.

We got up this morning and went over to XS for breakfast then walked around Mt. Vernon for a bit. We sat in one of the dog parks and watched a Yoga Al Fresco session in progress. This guy that I had been thinking was somewhat attractive as I saw him approaching stopped and asked me in this complete stoner voice "Hey, where did you get your coffee at?" Kinda funny. Eventually Catchka and I made our way back to where her car was parked so she could push off and I could push on to my hair appointment.

I feel so much better about myself now! I'd had to cancel my last couple of appointments for one reason or another, and my tresses desperately needed some chemical treatment. It was just a bad scene that was getting worse by the minute. I am not one of those women who enjoys my hair in its natural, more "textured" state. I'll take a relaxer, thanks.

Right after a salon visit I always think about the intimacy of letting a relative stranger wash my hair. How it is a kind of intimacy, even though in the context of a service... how willingly we all submit to this. Sure, it's a necessity, part of the process, but such a gentle, tender thing. Under any other circumstance, we would never allow anyone other than a lover to touch us in such a basic, yet profound way.

Normally, my stylist washes my hair, but today her new assistant did the job. And this person, with whom I have no familiarity whatsoever, was able to communicate to me through subtle touches and shifts when it was time to raise or lower my head, or turn, slightly. I was reminded about the healing properties of human contact. Something happens when someone else handles your hair, the crown of your head. It's a vulnerable, noble time for the recipient. A ministration received. A good stylist is a shaman.