I arrived to my folks' place for an appointment by Dad to see a pair of trucks in the driveway, or what they could occupy at that point. One was for the gardener as he was out in full mowing mode, and the other was Mom's hairdresser. It's a blessing for the main shuttle driver here the lady generally picks her up for the dogmatic weekly visit to the salon. This has been a biggie all Mom's life, back when I remember the girls next door coming over to do the honors.

She was concerned with her appearance and everyone else's. I remember about 1971 when a classmate, Steve, of one of my brothers was butting heads over long hair with a demagogue priest at the high school of our parish, Our Lady Of Nuclear Victory.

Said clergyman used to rant about "bums with electric Koolade", the character building of the Vietnam occupation, and otherwise pilfer sermons right from Catholic Digest. Our dinner table was a forum for my parents' hang-ups, in this but one of many examples Mom sneering, "Well, what's with Stevie lately?" The priest eventually had to acquiesce to the early 70's overgowth of men's helmet hair, more open-minded pastors and his own cancer which felled him. With so much more trouble to be gotten into!

As we returned from Dad's appointment the hairdresser's vehicle pulled up right behind us. All we needed was the long finished gardener to return but vegetation grows at the speed in which time with my parents passes.

On the way home I spotted a house which advertised child day care, "Ages 0 to 12". I suppose if you need an integer---let's start a debate! In my day there were no zeroes, of course.