a way to exhale

i've been working alot. too much. my life has revolved around 70 some-odd ladies and guy-ladies. this week i've made the first step to changing that. so here i am, sharing this transition with you.

to share why the end-of-twenties-crisis, here's one story:

my work is famous for mini-disasters and on-going dramas. those who have worked in a salon and spa know this. my little salon universe however, is a magnet for 'as the spa turns' moments. from tornadoes, russian stylist throwing mugs at gay make-up artists, district managers falling and breaking their wrist on the stairs, and waxed-off eyebrows, my job is, well, unpredictable.

so, this weekend, i had just checked in a lovely women for her manicure appointment, when my lead stylist comes to me in a panic because we're out of bleach. i dutifully grab my keys and jet off to the beauty supply store. i'm gone 15 min. as i pull up to the parking lot, i'm greeted by a long line of ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. i'm thinkin, 'can't be us, it's a big mall.' then my manager instincts kick in and say, 'oh, you know it's you.' i get out of my car, walk down our quiet pathway, and keep telling myself that some old lady has slipped on the other side of the mall, and all is well inside my salon. yeah, no. i open the door to a swarm of screaming police officers, paramedics and a crying nail technician. that lovely women i checked in? she begun to act funny during her manicure...sweating, and feeling light headed...when after a fainting spell...and a 911 call...she woke up, and felt like attacking the paramedics who had come to help. i walked in just in time to see 3 police officers tackle her on to the couch. the next 30 min i witnessed what a diabetic 'fit' was. with 5 large men holding her down, the paramedic desperately tried to get her blood sugar levels and an i.v. started. i'm not going into more details. it involved alot of screaming, spitting, blood and a devastated nail tech. after a dramatic exit on a gurney, the salon was quiet. the 80's elevator music could be heard again, the phones kept ringing, and blow-dryers blew away client's memories. i'm telling you, after 30 seconds, it was like nothing had happened. i had a few young stylist come to me a little shaken up, but my tried & true folks, just another day at work, and another 'remember when?' story.

i was worried i made the wrong choice when i put in my resignation letter. this might have been God's little reminder of a good decision. he does that now and then.

so here we go. i'm not great at grammar. i stink at spelling. i'll show you polaroids, moments, of my universe. i promise to get better as i go.