I got a hair cut about a week ago, too. It was supposed to be a hip, asymmetrical look but I didn't know how to style it so I was frustrated for several days, spent the weekend in wigs and hats, and finally asked Regis to cut it. Thank goodness, he refused, but he did offer to set me up with his barber in town. I didn't have the gumption to go back to my stylist, which is what I should have done.
So, I go into this distinctly man-land barber shop. I mean this place is (on purpose) an old school barber shop with the row of red chairs, a striped pole, two old-fashioned chairs, and a barber who looks like the reincarnation of Elvis.
I didn't know the protocol of this kind of shop and ended up with the wrong guy and I got very nervous when he came at me with a clipper going full bore.
My hair is very short but my philosophy about that is that it's just hair and it will grow back. Besides, I have a few wigs and a lot of hats. It's something I can live with, don't get me wrong.
I tell you what, though, that was flat-out the best entertainment I ever got for 16 bucks. Those two were a damn hoot. I was the only one in there for most of the time so they were putting on the whole show for me. What a kick.
They had an animated discussion about a fur coat that Nate bought at a consignment shop in Makato. Don insisted that it was a woman's coat and suggested putting a zipper in it to make it look more manly. Nate said he didn't care, that was not the point, and a zipper would be all wrong. I said I thought Nate, with his rolled up jeans and black pompadour, could pull off that look if anyone could.
So, I went to the consignment shop yesterday to look for a fur coat. I found a gorgeous one for not too much money that I would be the proud owner of today if it had fit me better. It was a little tight across the shoulders and a tiny bit short in the arms. Oh, my. It was gorgeous. I had to leave it there but I will see that coat in my dreams.
I did buy a cool red hat, a black beret, and a long black skirt. I love consignment and thrift store shopping. Get a whole new look and spend twenty bucks.
We're doing a road trip today to buy birthday presents for the little boys who will be three this month. Here they are three years ago:
I've been writing a few vignettes for my class but for the most part, I just want to write and not worry about showing versus telling and other such things. I've enjoyed going back through my old writing folders and recapturing things such as this.
Bertrand Russel Fritsch, AKA Houdini; or Out-Witted by a Jack Russell Terrier
Don't be fooled by that innocent look. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that Bert, in his dotage, has caused us plenty of anguish. He has some health issues; some of his medication gives him a powerful thirst and some of his medication gives him the need to pee at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. (Remember the Christmas tree skirt story?) We thought we had the problem solved. We went to Pet Expo and bought a portable pet fence that is three feet high and can be stretched to about ten feet long. When we leave the house, we run it between the living room and kitchen and we shut the other doors so he's contained. We bought puppy training pads and he learned to pee on those. On our way back from Mankato today we were saying how nice it is to have found a solution to this problem and it's so good to not be mad at Bert all the time for peeing and how the dogs seem to have adjusted just fine. We pull in the drive-way and.....STOP....there he is looking out the living room window at us. I swear he had a smirk on his face. We are astounded. What in the hell happened? The gate is still in place. We didn't leave anything in the way that he could jump on. The only possibility is that Bert, in his decrepitude, completed a three-foot vertical leap from the slippery kitchen linoleum, levitated forward, and landed on the living room carpet. He's not likely to make this leap back into the kitchen when he feels the need to pee so that means we're back to square one. Regis is going to put a row of razor wire like they have at prisons on the top of the pet fence because I know, if we went back and bought the four-foot fence (another hundred dollars) Bert would have a heart attack and die, leaving us with 150 dollar’s worth of worthless pet fence. Damn that dog.
Not exactly my magnum opus, but funny. Right?
We are moving on into the day. Make it a good weekend. We'll post photos later.