Ok, so this has nothing to do with the Sharks or the Jets, just a wonderful new person in my life named Maria.

The one advantage of having lived so long (almost 13 years) in one place is acquiring that built-in support system. I have had the same dentist, doctor, carpenter, house cleaner, painter, and electrician for most of those years.  I appreciate and depend on all of those holding together my imaginary safety net.  On a certain professional level, I actually kinda love them.

But last November the center of that well-woven net ripped down the middle when a member of my posse – Jason the hairstylist – decided to retire early.

Now Jason was much more than a guy who cut my hair every couple of months . . . we shared family stories, swapped travel ideas, traded artistic advice, even exchanged issues of The New Yorker over the past 10+ years. I was convinced I was much more than just another customer—

Until four months ago when Jason casually informed me between snips:

 “By the way, this is the last time I’ll be cutting your hair. I’m closing up the shop at the end of the week.”

Huh?

“Yah, I’ve had a lot of back problems lately and I really want to concentrate on my music.”

Huh?

“But Maria over there is really good and I’ll give you her card.”

Huh?

“She’s got a chair over at the blah-blah-blah and blah-blah-blah…………”

I could hear no more.  Jason had broken up with me. I was devastated.

Then about 2 weeks ago I noticed my coif was getting way too scraggily and generally ugly from a very long cold winter. It was time to finally accept the fact that Jason was out of my life and move on to a new stylist. So I pulled out the yellow pages and began calling all the salons in Newburyport in search of what’s-her-name? Oh yah, Maria.

After 5 inquiries, I finally found her at The Director’s Cut over on Market Street and reluctantly made an appointment.  But upon arriving I was pleasantly surprised to find the interior was sunny and bright as opposed to Jason’s dark edgy sophisticated space. Coffee was brewing and happy Latin music added to the general cheerfulness of the place. Maria rushed over claiming to remember me as she took my coat, fetched a cup of delicious java, and proceeded to give me the best shampoo, cut, and blow-dry of my life.  Aside from the fact that she was as gentle as a masseuse and that her soft Dominican accent practically lulled me to sleep in the swivel chair, Maria understood and LIKED my hair.

All through the previous decade Jason had fought me to cut my locks shorter, suggesting I was lucky any was still attached to my scalp. But Maria gushed over my natural body and lack of gray. To top it off, she proposed her ten-year plan for my head – and it sounded fabulous!!

Now I just hope my yoga teacher doesn’t up and join the circus J