Moving to a new state to start a new ministry means tons of things in my life have changed.
New home.
New routine.
New church.
New role.
New friends.
New hair stylist.
WAIT.
That last one isn’t exactly true. Oh, I tried to find a new hair cutting and highlighting expert, but he only managed to effectively make me hate my hair….which, by the way, I had to live with for 7 weeks till it was time for another cut. So, I did what any self-respecting, forward-thinking, hair-loving person would do: I drove 3 hours back to Georgia for a hair cut.
Yes I did.
Not once. Not twice. Today makes my 3rd trip. I drive over, get pampered by one of the best in the business (Berni, Inc for my local Cumming, Ga friends), grab lunch with a few friends, and drive back to Bama before nightfall. Berni has cut my hair for 11 years. Why stop now? Seems perfectly logical to me since I can’t trust these tresses to just anyone, but my hubby sure wishes my hair cuts didn’t cost me a 6 hour round trip.
Men. They just don’t get it sometimes.
By the time you read this post, I’ll likely be sitting in a comfy chair, covered by a black cape, and looking like a freak with tons of little foils all over my head. Then I’ll look glorious while I do lunch with some of my besties.
Eventually I’ll have to find someone local to cut my hair, but for now I’m enjoying my little day-trips for beauty. Unless, of course, I can convince Berni to move to Birmingham.
And don’t think I won’t try!