One of the rare times that I type with my eyes actually set on the keyboard. Not because I do not have every letter memorized, but because for one of the rare times, I am admiring someone else''s work on my nails.
I woke up today around 9 am, without any effort to pull myself out of bed. Reminders kept buzzing about last-minute details... one of those was about a nails appointment. I rolled on a brown dress that stopped at my knees, slipped into a pair of beige flip-flops, grabbed my brown purse, my key cars and my pink cell phone and left the house towards the Salon. My friend told me that a Valet Parking should pick the car up from outside the door.. I waited and waited, he never showed up. So I ended up parking the car myself and walking there. Pushing the fuschia door, I introduced myself and announced my appointment... since I was
right on time. Judging from the reactions, I''m guessing they forgot about it. So trying to make up, they seated me and proceeded with both my manicure and pedicure at the same time. I was facing one
lady who had trouble in her speaking and hearing, and another lady who was working on my French Manicure. Throughout the process, that first lady seemed more focused and dedicated, even though my hands required more work than that simple flashy red I picked. However in the end... I ended up favoring the red. On my way back home,
mom SMSed me to join her at the hairdresser. She judged I needed a haircut. I didn''t. However I joined her... And the discussion there was a bit more entertaining especially once a woman entered with a big smile on her face. Amidst the topics, one started about the quality of my
hair (which by the way I didn''t cut). "She should put an extension for her sister''s wedding" "Definitely... her hair volume isn''t suitable". By then I had two ladies standing behind me and my mom seated next to me... I wasn''t really following the discussion as my eyes were closing, drawning with sleep. But my eyes opened again once one that lady with the wide smile continued "My daughter''s hair is frizzy like
negros..." I jumped in "Like
black people, you mean?" She
looked at me, not getting what i just said "Yes, black negros." I jumped in again "Black people are definitely not negros". Not feeling comfortable, mom cut in, addressing the hair dresser "She''s travelling tonight to France for ten days". They all looked at me, before starting to shower me with their compliments and wishes. "Where in France?" Mom answered "At Courchevel"... Not really getting where Courchevel was, the quickest reply was: "You will be going to Paris right?" I answered negatively. The funniest reply however was.. "Yes but do not forget that there are people who love you here. Do not fall in love and marry a french guy! There''s nothing that beats living here with a local guy! Fall in love with an original man". I looked at her wanting to bang her head against the wall and all I could say was "Original indeed, and not a black negro, aight?" I thanked the hair dresser and left the salon, without waiting for my mom to finish. Funny people!
So right now I''m typing, with my cat weirdly following me around the house. Somehow he can feel me leaving, and I''m not sure if he understands it''s just for ten days. Ten days which I''m planning to live to the fullest! Because after that hectic winter and the previous lousy summer, we deserve the vacation. I''m not disconnecting myself completely, as afterall I will be taking my mobile phone with me and will be receiving SMSes from people who care. So... Europe, Here I come!!!!!
(08/08/07, 12:38 pm, Lebanon)
More reviews about the "Dear Diary"- Europe... here I come!