Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, February 27, 2004
I am NOT an ANIMAL!
Because I have a nice new hair cut and once again look nice and neat. Because of all the rain, the soccer park was closed and so the kids didn't have practice. For once I had the chance to use the time that would have otherwise been spent watching children kick a ball to take Boy and myself down the hill to HeadStart to get our many hairs trimmed.
It's been a while for both of us--about a month for him, two for me--meaning the great mat of fur on my head had gotten to the uncomfortable length of too long to look distinguished, yet not long enough for a good mullet. Just a big puffball of Shoney's Big Boy hair (except grizzled) with a wad of wooly curls around the neck. Blech.
Boy has straight fine hair that uncombs itself into a typical little-boy mop top after about ten seconds (unless it's slicked down with copious amounts of water), which is fine if it's short, but once it begins lopping over his earpans, he looks a little TOO bedraggled. We must keep up the appearance of respectability, you know.
SO, after I got home I managed to grab Boy and run away--we decided to go to the shop by the Winn-Dixie because it was closer, and was right next door to the Dollar Tree. Jonathan has been pestering me for a week now to take him by there and let him pick out something since he was SO GOOD at my zoning board meeting last week. Puppy dog eyes, etc.,--what could I do?
Parked and walked in and for once there was no waiting. One of the hair cutters was an older looking girl/woman who had her hair cut in a short bob, I think to make herself look younger. It worked from thirty feet away. Anyway, Jonathan hopped up in her chair and I gave her the same spiel I give every single person that cuts his hair--"Just give him a regular, normal, little boy haircut. No ridges, no lines. Use scissors, and don't peel his head. And be sure an trim off the little rattail on the center of this neck." That one bad haircut at the Husky Barber Shop four years ago (and the resulting frosty attitude towards yours truly from Miss Reba) still haunts me...
As for the thing with the big choppy line around the head, I just can't stand the Moe Howard bowl cut, and have frankly never understood why parents would cut their kid's hair like that. Maybe it's because when I was young, people who were too cheap to spend 75 cents at the barber cut their own hair like this. Or maybe it's because I think Moe looks dumb. Thankfully, though, it seems the rattail phenomenon has died an achy-breaky death (at least around here. YMMV. Which, of course, "means your mullet may vary").
As his haircut started, I sat down in the other chair staffed by another bobhaired girl, except this time one whose age actually matched the style. I told her the same thing for my hair--"little boy haircut..." etc. and asked her to unburden me of that nappy mess on my neck. She got started on me, and five minutes in, Boy was already finished. Looked just like a little boy, he did. Although there were a couple of uneven spots. Nothing to quibble about.
I think my girl was new, because she actually took a lot of time and was careful and used every single cutting and combing implement she had at her disposal to crop my top. About 20 pounds of hair later, I looked like a decent person again.
Off then to the Dollar Tree--everything really is $1, except for the stuff that costs, like, TWO for a dollar. Amazing what a buck can buy, although I feel sorry for the authors whose books wind up there. Rather ignominious way to die, you know. Jonathan found himself some kind of teeny-guy-with-a-sword-and-dragon playset, we paid our dollar plus tax and were on our way home.
Haircut and a toy--hard to beat that.
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