April 13, 2008
hair appointment with destiny

I've been taking quite a few classes this month, trying to whip myself into shape no doubt. Besides the twice-weekly belly dance sessions, I took a photography course last Sunday and a hyperbolic crochet course this afternoon.

The photography course was hosted by Jacquie & NotAnArtist, so I immediately felt at home. These two clever ladies put together over two hours of photo phun. My photography has improved a great deal just by following their three important rules:

  1. turn off the flash
  2. read the manual
  3. take tonnes of shots

Some of the nicer ones:

blue chickie bird's eye blue chickie in the bib chat~doze when owls attack j harvey yarn

Today's hyperbolic crochet was an exercise in non-Euclidean geometry taught by Miss Sweetiepie Press. I was just in it for the cool shapes, but I also snuck in some math. Go, me!

hyperbolic models it could be a hat how to crochet...hyperbolically!

Yesterday I had the girliest day out ever in the history of the world. Throw in a waxing and the world would have burst with the free-floating estrogen (so it's good that there was no waxing). At 11 I had a hair appointment with Destiny. (Hee! I love pulling out the 10 ½-year-old pseudonyms as if I dropped them yesterday. That one's for you, long-time readers. Er, reader.)

Back to the hair appointment with Destiny. She cut my hair during the semester break in January, and it was the longest, strongest hair cut of my life. It was only last week that I started to think about getting it cut again, and even when I woke up on Saturday I found myself wondering if I had a few more weeks in it. The haircut is that good. But a haircut means girliness, and girliness means girlfriends, and I always need more of that no matter what my hair looks like. Scherezade met me at the salon, where the three of us chatted through the appointment (Destiny is her highschool buddy, after all). Then the two of us set out for what I thought would be a short trip up and down the strip. I failed to realize that when I shop with Scherezade, I shop the hell out of an afternoon.

First we stopped in at Fresh Baked Goods, where I was seduced by a bright pink t-shirt and a blue-and-brown dress. Although I paid for both, one is being custom-made and the second is getting slight alterations to make it perfect. Laura Jean the Knitting Queen pinned me up, and we were able to chat about her designs as I have enough yarn to crochet two of her Cupcake sweaters but lack the courage to cast on. At least I can buy her handiwork with no more courage than a credit card inspires. I'm not sure that the world will survive how cute this dress will make me. We can only pray that I won't find co-ordinating shoes.

After Fresh Baked Goods, Scherezade hustled me into the next store, which sells art and art products. She bought a set of postcards that I later fell in love with to the point that we had to return. But that second stop was well after lunch, which was my first visit to the Red Tea Box. The girliness hiked itself up a couple notches over the April Bento Box Special and the Competition Monkey Picked Oolong tea, not to mention ogling the fabric cakes. (Delish!) Having secured the postcards in my grubby little paws, we then went to Victor Gallery for frames, where I bought 4 identical frames which each cost more than all 8 postcards. (Easy come, easy go…or, as my grandfather might say, I have more money than sense.) We also ducked into Bakka for a quick banter with the saleslady and a hunt for some crappy sf novels recommended by Scherezade's honey.

Our final stop was Mac Fab, where I spent the better part of an hour looking for metal-shank buttons for my coat and some pretty plastic buttons for my dad's birthday present. I also found some awesome fabric for Mason's new apartment, which I shall buy next week, when I return to the block for my new dress. Life is good.

Labels: , , ,

Powered by Blogger

The contents of this site, unless otherwise noted, are copyright Rocketbride 1997-2009.
Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*