In which our heroine indulged in a fantasy

Now, now, get your minds out of the gutter. Well this time anyway {grin}.
I went to get my hair cut, going back to this lovely Aveda salon (a big treat) for a trim and brow job (again, read carefully without your mind in the red light district, for now).

I had debated forgoing this extravagant foray but my bangs grow so damn fast and I'm heading out of town and, well as Glamour Girl says - I'm vain and shallow. Most of these folks I only see once a year, if I'm lucky, so I want to try to look decent.

This is a new salon in a complex that is only partially built, mostly empty, that bills itself as a live/work complex in the relative countryside of Clayton. Near the salon is a large cafe that was empty both times so I have no idea how it stays in business.

Anyway, last time I sauntered over and bought a flavored latte to go, something I don't usually get. Today I strolled over, deciding to sit a bit and flip through a magazine while I sipped my vanilla nut latte and nibbled a chocolate chip cookie.

So how is this event, getting a haircut a fantasy? When I go there, I imagine that I am a lady of leisure, getting just a little primped because it's my standard appointment, versus the one where I the full service: a massage, a facial and who knows what else. Oh, maybe getting my gray hair colored! In my fantasy it's just the first stop of a day that includes drifting hither and yon, shopping, browsing, meeting friend for lunch before heading home to browse expensive catalogs, check my email which is bursting with witty notes and invitations to wonderful parties.

In reality my splurge with tip came to less than just the haircut would cost me in Berkeley. In truth I came home to walk the dog; finish ripping up carpeting, tact strips, and staples off my hall stairs- working up quite the sweat; doing my push-up program (more on that later); tending to animals, ignoring laundry and working on Dance New England. Glamour my ass.

See? Total fantasy.