When you move to a new city, it is of the utmost importance that you develop a relationship with various professionals. Plumber, HVAC guy, electrician, these are pretty basic, particularly if you are a homeowner. On a more personal note, particularly if you are a woman, maybe not now that I think about it, people of all persuasions can relate to how difficult it can be to find a hair stylist who understands your mop of curls and cowlicks and a nail salon that does a reasonably priced yet pampering pedicure. I have found neither of these as yet. I haven't seriously looked for a nail salon but definitely will sort that out in the near future. As far as the hair goes, I did get my hair cut just a couple of weeks after arriving here. It was raining and my hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun and I spied a Great Clips while waiting at a red light. So I popped in and had my shoulder-length hair lopped off so short that for the first time in perhaps decades it was not long enough for a pony tail. It has grown two to three inches since then and I find myself musing over the possibility of being that crone with a wild mane of hair cascading down my back. This idea was reinforced after watching Practical Magic last month. The aunties Frances and Jet both have admirable tresses tumbling out from under their fabulous hats. So. Letting it grow for now.
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