I can't even make up stuff this good...

Since I'll be traveling the entire month of May - here, there and everywhere - I decided to take the day off and rest a bit. It was a beautiful spring day in the mountains. I considered hiking, but Kenyon had errands to run so I opted to join him. One of his errands was to get a haircut. Turns out this is nearly an all day event! There isn't a black barber shop in 20 miles of the town we live in, so he drives. He drives over 30 minutes to the next city called Lenoir (it looks French, but they don't pronounce it that way). When we get to Lenoir we go through some crazy off the beaten path roads. I'm wondering the entire time, "how in the world did you even find this place?" The answer, an Internet search. We arrive at the barber shop and there are men, known at the barber shop as "heads," everywhere. Kenyon is giving me the rules - normally women don't come to the barber shop so don't be surprised by some of the conversations; they will try to sell you bootlegged videos and such, this is normal; shoes, there is always someone selling shoes, they are likely stolen. So, we go in and I am the only woman there (some other females came in later for a time, but left quickly). He announces when we arrive, "this is my wife" because there seems to be a need to explain my presence. We wait and wait. One barber doesn't seem to be doing much of anything, but Curtis, the guy we are there to see has a line out the door. We are nearly the last customer of the day, Kenyon and I read a couple of recent Ebony magazines. The conversation revolves around politics (Obama, of course) and sports (Duke and North Carolina. I decided it wasn't wise to gloat about my Jayhawks and their fantastic win of the NCAA Championship). Kenyon gets his cut and we leave.

The good part is on the drive to and from the barber shop. There is a sign, I swear I am not making this up, that says - "Hillbilly dolls sold here. $9.95" What is a hillbilly doll? I really wanted to stop and find out, but Kenyon wouldn't have it. My next suggestion was to at least let me take a photo of the sign so I can show people it actually exists. We didn't stop, but it is still worth blogging about. Hmmm, perhaps this will be a unique Christmas gift for this year - I haven't ever been to a place where hillbilly dolls were available. Have you?