I hate to leave. . . (totally a continuing series)

. . .my hairdresser in D.C.

This woman is rock star. Firstable, she's not expensive, which is quite a find for Georgetown. Second, she's pretty good at what she does. She is also a knockout and dresses like the super cool chick I've always dreamed of being. I've had more exciting and more dazzling haircuts, but she gets the job done. I look groomed again as opposed to the strange witchy creature that was stalking the streets only 24 hours ago. But what I'll miss most about C. is her excellent taste in books and her really odd sense of humor.

The first part: she led me to two of my favorite non-fiction reads of the past few years. First one was Shadow Divers, which is a story of deep sea exploration off the east coast--totally thrilling. Read this enormous tome in about a day, and growled at anyone who tried to interrupt me or get the couch back. Second, Stiff: The Curious Life of Human Cadavers (I know, I'm sounding like Chimmy suddenly!), which is a close look at how our civilization deals with its dead. Everything from "donating your body to science" to embalment, to forensic science, and so on. Really fascinating stuff. There was one chapter near the end where I needed to skim so as not to toss my cookies, but that's not so bad given the subject matter. It's a hilarious read and very informative.

Yesterday C. had a new book at her station, so of course I picked it up. It was about the black market for human bodies (she seems to be on a kick). The first page of the book (I think this is it) is the "going price" for various human parts, ranging from elbows ($150-$300) to torsos (more) to eyes and a leg. (I don't know why the elbow price stuck with me and nothing else did--I guess I never pictured an elbow transplant. . .)

Anyway, after I had read Teen People (at her urging--she knows how much I enjoy silly trashy mags, and Teen People may be the apex of the genre) we got down to the hair cutting and she started chatting about black market body parts and a recent case involving a crematorium worker who was chopping up bodies and selling them rather than burning them all. (I feel certain this was an episode of NCIS--guilty pleasure, sorry.) We started chattering about what we'd buy if we had the money, what we'd sell (this was an X-files back in the day, yeah?), and what other people should consider selling cheap. Howling with laughter in the middle of a G'town salon. I was sure she was going to get fired. Then we sucked helium from some birthday balloons that the birthday boy didn't want and said mean things about each other's eyebrows with squeaky voices.*

There's no way I'm going to find someone like that to do my hair in GA. NO way.

*She overplucked many years ago and now has tiny, wee eyebrows. I have blonde brows, so they look like nothing, but they are actually a little fuzzy. Or so Squeaky C. said.