As we wait for our new coach to be prepped for delivery, (You can see pics
here.) we are catching up on all that stuff you have to do that's just part of living. Today was all about hair.
Folks who have been fulltiming for awhile have this hair thing all figured out. But, I remind you, we're newbies. I'm sharing our early experiences in hopes of helping a fellow newbie or future fulltimer or two, and eliciting some helpful advice from those who have gone before us.
Paul's hair needs are pretty simple. It's short. From time to time it needs to be shorter. He's not picky about his hair. Mostly he's happy he has a head full and none of it is gray. Back in Oakland he had been seeing the same barber for years. All Paul had to do was walk in and take a seat. Fifteen minutes and 20 bucks later he'd walk out with a cut that worked.
And, me? Well, that's a different story. I had the same stylist for the last 10 years. She was very talented and I trusted her completely. She and I loved to change things up from time to time, so my hair morphed in length, shape and color many times over the decade. I booked each appointment weeks in advance, allowing a couple of hours and withdrawing a C-note from our bank account each time.
As everybody knows, hair grows. So, by the time we got to Kansas City we were both in pretty desperate need. Weeks before our arrival, I was growing anxious. I called my sister-in-law who lives there, asked for her stylist's number (After all, her hair always looks good!) and booked an appointment for day two after our arrival. Paul headed to a Super Cuts. The results for both of us turned out great.
I knew my first on-the-road hair experience was cheating, kind of. Booking a cut and color in my old home town with a family member's stylist is far from what was to come. We are, after all, wandering the continent. Finding a family member's stylist every eight weeks is not on the itinerary. My decision in Kansas City to return to something that resembles my natural hair color bought me a bit more time. But, I knew I would eventually find myself alone on the road at the point where every day was a bad hair day.
It's been 10 weeks since our Kansas City coiffure. So, once again we were overdue. The question, for me anyway, was "What to do?" As we wandered out of the local Walmart, we spotted a Great Clips down the way. We made a mental note. It might be worth a shot.
With nothing but time to kill today, we decided it was time for a shearing. We made our way to the Great Clips and walked inside. We checked into the sparse but clean and bright salon and our greeter escorted Paul to her chair. I took a seat by the magazines and waited my turn. Paul began the now familiar task of advising a stranger of the particulars of his head of hair. He imparted the wisdom of his old barber with confidence. The stylist understood and went to work.
A woman who was nearly old enough to be my mother fetched me and put me in her chair. She asked me what I wanted. All I could say was "Shorter." What I really wanted was my old familiar stylist to come out from the back, offer me some tea and work her magic. But, that was not to be. I sat calmly and let the lady work. As she kept clipping, I noticed a sign on the window that said "Relax, you're at Great Clips!"
Yeah, right.
Paul finished up in the chair across the room and his clip did, indeed, look great. A few minutes later the clipping stopped in my chair, too. It was short, still damp, unstyled and - most importantly - still in desperate need of color. We paid up and made a beeline for Walmart.
In the hair color aisle at Wally World I was in virgin territory. Which brand? What color? Unable to choose I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to channel my familiar stylist. By the time Paul met up with me I had narrowed the choices to two. I asked for his help and he affirmed my final choice.
Back home I faced the biggest question. How do I go about the business of coloring my hair here? The answer came quickly: Not here. Though I'd never done it myself, I know it's a messy process not suited for a motorhome bathroom. So, I loaded up my stuff and my magical box of color and headed for the campground showers. Certain I was violating some campground policy against using hair dye in the showers, I started mixing and combing the goop into my hair. Again, I did my best to copy what I had seen my stylist do so many times. Thankfully, I only ran into one other camper, and she seemed more interested in telling me about her day than what I was doing. Minutes later the goop was out of my hair and the shower was cleaner than when I had arrived. No harm done. And, you know what? The gray was gone!
With our hair affair done for the day, we sat back and sized things up.
Two hair cuts with tip and one do-it-yourself color: $42.
Having a decent hair day and saving big bucks: Priceless.
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