We both had our hairs cut today. Yes, all of them. Turner actually went to a Chinese salon, brave man that he is. I was tempted but could not fathom what they would do to my lovely hair. We have seen all sorts of hideous haircuts around China. They are awfully fond of the mullet, lacking of course the cultural affiliations that most people make with mullets in the US. When Turner returned with a very reasonable haircut, I made him cut my hair.
Yes, my husband cuts my hair. It doesn't really matter since my hair forms Shirley Temple curls not matter how it's cut. I must say he took off more than I expected but it came out well, and I didn't have to brave a Chinese hairdresser.
This afternoon we took our bike to the beach. Notice the use of the singular, one bike. Turner pedals and I sit on the rack over the back wheel. It works out quite well actually, though better last year when we lived in flat ChengYang. Few people in Qingdao ride bikes because of the city's many hills.
The weather was much windier and therefore colder than I expected, so I was not dressed appropriately. I rarely am though, so it was fine.
After our beach jaunt and a trip to the local Western food convenient store for beans and gin, we had cocktail hour and Scrabble back at home.
Turner makes himself a dirty martini with gin, olive juice, and olives, and he makes me a lemon drop martini with vodka, a sugary lemon drink, and fresh lemon juice. Both are quite enjoyable and we often imbibe before dinner.
Along with our aperitif we had a regular smorgasbord (at least for China), black and green olives, vintage cheddar, and a hard-boiled egg, and played a game of Scrabble. Turner beat me, like usual.
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