K is for Kid Bro's Kid

I am late on the draw, so to speak - although technically any time today is just fine for getting my “K” out there!

I’ve been preoccupied with my kid brother’s oldest kid - Desi.

She recently moved to my neck of the woods and I find myself in the position of keeping the role of Auntie alive by extending a little kindness to this sweet kid.

Desi’s passion is hairstyling - to this end we are kindred spirits.

She had accepted an offer to do the hair for a stage production running for two days at the University of BC - not that far from me, but a much further distance from where she currently resides.

As the halfway point I was tickled when she called to ask if I would lend use of the spare room as her midway pitstop point.

Coming in late, from a very productive night, we kindred kinfolk sat and had a beverage while catching up on the evening’s events.

We covered a kaleidoscopic range of topics under the heading of hairdstyling; finger waves, updos, twists, french braids and the different kinds of period hairstyles for the production she was working on.

After saying our goodnights and heading in opposite directions in the house I lay awake thinking how wonderful it is to have one’s passion as one’s profession.

For thirty years my passion has been my profession - I love what I do - I wish my dear niece equal felicity as she endeavours to fulfill her dreams of become a great hairstylist.

Tools of the trade.

Now… as a little sidebar…

When I was about seven, I got a hold of a pair of my mom’s sewing scissors. I lined up all the kids in the neighbourhood and gave each a haircut.

Not just a trim - a serious cut. 

In this group was my bestest little buddy, Maria, a beautiful Italian girl with hair down to her waist… yes, you know where I am going with this.

I cut it ALL off!  (just recounting that experience gives me goosebumps)

Well… let me say, I was under constant supervision over the next few months because Maria’s papa was not a happy Italian man… need I say more. (possible mafia connections… I always wondered) 

He cursed me as the devil’s daughter herself (which must have pleased my dad to no end… Satan himself) and warned my parents to keep me away from his daughter.

Of course… Maria would tell you she was beyond happy as her beautiful mane was so long and so heavy she actually walked with her face looking to the heavens. 

We still played together when Mr. Mafia was at work - Maria’s mother gave me extra cookies, for some reason, every time I came over… her long locks always fascinated me too. And, on occasion, I think she left a pair of kitchen scissors within easy reach, ever hopeful.

So began my passion… 

Have you turned your passion into a profession?

Cheers, Jenny