Yesterday, Bill and I took Margaret to get her haircut. She's got school pictures today and our fabulous hairdresser squeezed Mar in.
Mason's the best. I'd never let anyone else touch my hair (What? You don't think blond and purple hair grows out of my head, do you? Because at this point, my head mostly grows gray hair — rabble scrabble gray hair). Mar loves getting her hair cut by Mason ... but who wouldn't.
Check her out:
Super cute, huh?
Because we were making Mason nervous (or maybe because she doesn't really like us all that much), she sent us around the corner to get a beer while she cut Mar's hair.
Being ones to never turn down the opportunity to drink beer, we dashed off to Weaver's Tavern. We took seats at the bar and enjoyed our beer.
Not long after, the couple sitting next to us told the bartender they had to catch the train on their way to Reno. This got my attention.
Then he said, "Well, not really Reno, but Truckee."
I blurted out, "Truckee, really? My mom has a house in Truckee."
Turns out the couple summers in Wisconsin while they work for some kind of water something or other (I'm a good listener) and then winter in Truckee where the dude is the manager of one of the ski shops there — and it just happened to be the one I bought Bill's snowboard at several years ago.
I love coincidences.
Yes, I do realize this "story" is only interesting to me.