While I'm in Salt Lake City later this week, I plan to get my hair did at Red State (hate that term!) prices. While researching salons, I read one guy's complaint that for $35, he expected the best haircut anyone's ever gotten, and I learned there's a beauty school called the Hairitage Academy.

This phase of census work is not going too well. Last week I was in training for three days, but then you, Mister Taxpayer, paid me twelve hours for slipping one missed visit sheet under a guy's door. (I don't think that's any privileged information; if it is, I could be imprisoned for up to five years and fined up to $250,000 for breaking my Lifetime Oath [no kidding, I'm oathed for life to the census].)

The Kindle's loaded for vacation, and H is lending me a portable DVD player on which I plan to watch season 1 of "Pushing Daisies" and possibly "The Wire" and/or "Trailer Park Boys." 'Cause it's going to be a shitnami of a flight--five and a half hours in a middle seat. Oh well, you know what the middle seat really means? Two friends I haven't met yet!