Those three priorities take top slot even before packing. I won't dare discuss packing here; that's a whole 'nother post, and then some.
I made sure to get my own hair done a few days prior to our adventure in the Big Apple. After all, isn't New York all about hair? I could at least pretend that the way I looked after Monica waved her magic wand would be the way I looked while marching through Manhattan with middle schoolers.
Monica humored me when I said I waned a picture with her. She was slightly embarrassed by the irony of having her own bad hair day. The bobby pin holding back your bangs is not the look your stylist wants to be captured in, but I begged. Besides, I was having a bad face day, so we were even.
I begged her and I asked her co-worker to take a shot because Monica has been an important part of my life for three years.
We always take pictures of family and friends, but someday we'll wish we had pictures of the special folks who made us feel like movie stars every time we stepped out of their chair.
I hate selfies, but I like the giggles we shared trying to get a decent one.
Why do people look in two different directions at the same camera?
Okay, so now that my hair was done, it was time to tend to the details of my four-legged friend.
When you have a dog, you have to either kennel the beast or have someone come in to look after him.
And his hair was out of control, too. He needed a complete makeover, so off to the groomer went Reilly.
Ears, feet, nails, and anals. Boy, am I ever glad my beauty treatment doesn't include ALL of that. As I said, we're not talking about the REAL Preparation H.
Stay tuned for the "after" picture of my beloved hound.