I'm Back, With Foamy Gratitude

My blogging strike is over! At last! You may have noticed that I have not been blogging for about a month. (Or, maybe you haven't.)

I have been striking against the inequity and injustice in the blogging world. The glaring reality that Mom-bloggers are now growing at a faster pace than any other type, and yet, Mom-bloggers have the least amount of time to spend on it. Unfair.

(Yes, that was a blog joke.)

With that, I want to tell you about my hair cut this morning. It's a small, locally owned salon. Hyper-locally owned, meaning that the salon is named after the owner, who has owned it since it opened, and he (the owner, and namesake) actually cut my hair. I know, pretty kuel.

But first, the hair-washer person (we'll call her "Mona") took me back to the sinks to wash my hair. Pretty typical.

And anything but. I leaned my head backwards, at that awkward angle that salon sinks necessitate during the washing part. I wasn't sure if I should cross my legs or not; I picked something in between. I thought about my book that I'd bothered to bring, and the Book Club members that I had begged for more time from, since I don't have any, to finish the book. I thought about my 3-year old in preschool close by, the other 3-yr old that we had carpooled with, and my cherubic 10-mo old that was back at the carpoolee's Mother's house, happily napping.

I was by myself, during the day, for the first time in a long time.

Then, Mona started scrubbing. Washing my hair. She got her perfectly-sized nails in between the follicles and scratched all about my head, rubbed my temples, got the shampoo to a thick lather, just like they tell you on the back of the bottle. It was heaven.

When she paused, I took the moment to communicate to her how much she was making my day more relaxing.

Then, as if her life purpose had been fulfilled because someone thanked her for doing something she did 40 times a day, every day, Mona really scrubbed. She really took her time, allowing me to actually process the fact that I was becoming more relaxed. At one point, she even pressed the ends of her fingers into the back of my neck. You know, where you might rub if you were sitting at a desk all day, straining to see your computer. Or where you might rub if your neck and back ached all day from changing potty-training 3-yr olds and picking up toys all. Day. Long.

The scrubbing probably only lasted all of 6 minutes. But sitting there, legs half crossed and half not, thinking of nothing else besides gratitude for this person, this salon, this carpool, and this beautiful Fall day, I decided to hold onto the moment.

And, of course. Blog about it.