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august 16, 2000. A few stolen minutes. The printer is spitting out place cards on creamy linen-look paper, and I have to leave for a facial in 6 minutes. Still, this is the most leisure I've had to write in days & days. I'm not unhappy, I could just do with 2 more productive hours tacked onto the day. As it is, I fall into bed tired as hell and wake up ready to organize, plan, produce, whatever. Not quite manic, yet. Maybe never. But I'm happy. This morning I'm working on Morgan's hair appointment. I swung by her place last night to get some last minute details & plans hammered out. It turns out that she's looking around for a hair place, since Little Spider has decided to go the non-professional route due to budgetary restrictions. I'm trying to get her into the home booking we have going for Saturday. That would rock - not only would she look fabulous, but she'd be right in front of me the whole morning, thus not fouling up our departure for pictures. Little Spider still won't give me a straight answer about where she'll be, and I'm rapidly running out of time to screw around. Sigh. Overheated prose about frustrations has ended for the time being. * ~ * ~ * later... Wow! That was the greatest! There was a massage & steam & exfoliating...a whole bunch of hair was ripped out of my body...moisturizing...a serenity tape...it was so cool! I walked out of there feeling so euphoric that I attracted the attention of passerby. During the leg wax (which, incidentally, didn't hurt as much as everyone warned me, thanks so much for freaking me out, Tymothi:J!), we got to talking about our Italian families, and I mentioned that I had only just learned that my family seriously believes in malocchio (a.k.a. the evil eye). My aesthetician then regaled me with her own stories of travel in Italy and her run in with the evil eye. It's strange - now that I know about it, it seems like every Italian I talk to has their own experience with malocchio. And I thought I lived in the digital age.
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