rivka

This is exactly what my vacation was supposed to be like.

I woke up around nine o'clock and spent some time relaxing in my bathrobe, getting caught up on LiveJournal and the blogs I read.

Late in the morning I walked a couple of blocks to the City Cafe, where I had a chai latte with just a hint of sweetness and the World's Greatest Oatmeal Cookie. (Thick, soft, and chewy, with big golden raisins.) I sat at a table in the sun and started reading The Golden Compass. Why haven't I ever read any Philip Pullman before?

When I finished my breakfast, I walked over to Neal's Hair Salon and Day Spa. I hung out at the counter chatting with people - including someone from my church, whom I've been wanting to know better - while I waited for my stylist. I didn't have any sense of impatience, which is rare for me. Neal gave me a piece of orange peel spice cake, luscious and moist, made by his mother. The assistant washed my hair and massaged my scalp with a shampoo that smelled of tangerines. Then my stylist, Ed, cut my hair ("nice and short for summer, honey?") while we sang along to show tunes and chatted with Neal and the other customers in the warm, light, soothing main salon.

I got a parting hug from Ed and the assurance that "you look fabulous. If I saw you in a bar, I'd send you a drink." Then I wandered home to find that I've been effusively complimented by someone whose writing and ideas I've admired for years. In a few minutes, I'm going to put a map, my first aid kit, bottled water, dried mangoes, and some cheese and crackers into my backpack, and head out to spend the rest of the afternoon in Patapsco Valley State Park.

Around 5:30 I'll come home and make cornbread and a salad to serve with the pork, black bean, and corn chili I'm giving