today J and I go to Boston for L & A's wedding. I'm several belt-holes thinner, laden with fleece, hair sliced Iceland-style (thanks J!), and not wanting to leave the weather here. The neighbor's tiger lilies have just started to bloom, and the rain has been plinking against the window this morning as I scurry around, finishing the last-minute errands.
My haircut yesterday was an interesting new experience- My stylist, Steinunn, was a little orange-haired elf in baggy jeans with a scissors-holster slung over her shoulder, full of stories of her six-month stay in Seattle. She slapped a weighted collar on my shoulders ("makes it easier to cut the hair on your back, and keeps your shoulders straight!") and went to work. She pulled and fluffed, then whipped out her comb, clips, and thinning scissors and went to work, spouting stories of the horror of grasshoppers and telling me when I get to the States, I should pretend that I've completely forgotten how to speak anything but Icelandic.
An hour later, after cutting both wet and dry, I left, looking very much like and Icelandair flight attendant, complete with the asymmetrical bangs. To me, this haircut is more reflective of this country than a tax-free lopapeysa, although I didn't do the one thing that apparently ALL Icelandic women do- the color. When I was making this appointment, I encountered a surprising number of people who asked, "you want JUST a cut? No color?" Maybe next time I'll come out carrot-headed....
Anyway, I'm going to miss The Land while I'm gone, but it's nice to know that my bathrobe will be hanging in the bathroom waiting for me when I get back in 6 weeks. Until then, I've always got my haircut and the Hildur Vala CD I loaded on to my laptop to keep the memories fresh.
Takk fyrir!
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