Category: Hairs

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I Need A Trim

How do I know I need a trim? Because only two weeks after I got them shaved, my head hairs are already long enough to hold my shamrock hair clips. Green Bow Tie o’ the Day is kinda grass-like in its fabric design. It does remind me of hilly fields in Ireland. And I’ll tell you a secret: The last item on my Bucket List is to die on one of the Aran Islands in western Ireland. If I have to die—and we all do—that’s the place I wanna be when I do it. Well, today that’s where I want to die, anyway. The place designated in the last item on my Bucket List changes often.

Folks, I am so stoked to be able to visit Mom in her room at Millard Care and Rehab tomorrow. I have not been able to concentrate on much else, since I got the news this morning that visitors are again allowed to hang with the residents. Things are not back to normal-normal. For example, visitors are allowed to visit their person only in their person’s room. That’s fine by me. All I need is a hug from my mother, and she probably needs one from me after a year. I know for a fact that she needs a hug from Skitter. Skitter will jump up on Mom’s bed, curling up against Mom’s leg to nap just like she belongs there. Mom will then coo at Skitter, and pet her the entire time we’re visiting. Helen Sr. will be so overjoyed to see Skitter that I’ll be lucky to steal a few hugs from the grand old broad.

Seriously, although I turned 57 last week, this afternoon I feel more like just the 7. The thought of seeing Mom in person—and being able to touch her—has got me feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. I won’t sleep a wink tonight.

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Even My Hair Is Ironic

I had an early appointment and didn’t have time for even a quick shower this morning, so I grabbed my dry shampoo to swiftly clean my hairs before I left the house. 😜

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Channeling Dad Again

My dad had this same haircut for all the years I knew him, and he always had a red or blue hanky in the back pocket of his striped bib overalls. He did not, however, make a point of wearing groovy bow ties. His usual idea of neckwear was wearing a wood coyote call around his neck. I miss the old guy.

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My Haircut Makes Me Look Like A Hedgehog

I’m here to confess that my occasional self-inflicted baldness feels amazing. I would describe the sensation of having all your hairs shaved off as similar to how it feels when you take off ye olde brassiere after getting get home from work. And, ladies, you know darn well how good that feels. I’m not exaggerating. Bald is a free feeling.

A naked head in winter is a tad cold, though. For whatever reason, the handful of times in my life I’ve felt the urge to go mostly fur-less on my noggin, I’ve felt it in winter. I’m not complaining about the frigid air. I do have a bigly hat collection from which my head can draw any warmth it might need, as you well have probably already noticed. It’s weird, though: My baldy head doesn’t usually get cold, but the tops of my ears freeze tremendously. I need Suzanne to crochet me teensy beanies for the tops of my ears. One ear beanie would have to be considerably larger than the the other, however, in order to completely cover the tip of my left ear, which is my Spock ear.

My pop-top drink cans Tie o’ the Day, and my Jack Daniels Cufflinks o’ the Day are an homage to the fact that while I wasn’t up to posting about it last week, I hit a sober milestone of much import to me. I managed to make it 5,000 days (5,008 as of today) without drinking so much as a Munchkin-sized drop of alcohol. That translates into almost 14 years of not-drinking God’s special fermentations. I especially miss beer, which I will always fondly think of as “liquid bread.” Likewise, I content myself with forever thinking of the bread that I eat as nothing less than “solid beer.” I have no regrets. Not about the drinking. And not about the hair.🍺💈

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Miss Tiffany Shaved My Hairs Off Today

I donned my hairscuttin’ shears wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, and Suzanne and I zoomed off to our hairs appointments with Miss Tiffany—the craftswoman who is in charge of our manes. Suzanne just needed a quick trim, but you can clearly see I was in the mood for a bigly change. Miss Tiffany is always happy to oblige my hair ideas. Suzanne is not a bigly fan of my rare adventures in baldness. She prefers my asymmetrical styles o’ longer hair. Before we went to visit Miss Tiffany, I was thoughtful enough to warn Suzanne of the drastic hairstyle change I intended to make, and she said she would kindly endure my head hairs being shaved as long as it’s a strictly temporary hairdo. Suzanne has to look the other way—both literally and figuratively—somewhat regularly when it comes to my hairs and fashion style choices. She’s a very good sport, if you ask me.

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Pandemic Hair And Nostalgia

I got out my going-to-Miss-Tiffany’s-to-get-my-hairs-cut Tie o’ the Day this morning. However, when I called to alert Miss Tiffany I’d be showing up if she had time for me and my head hairs today, I was informed that she had the day off. Oh, well. I was okay with having to re-arrange how I had planned my day to play out, but I didn’t want my hairs-cuttin’ scissors tie to feel disappointed it wouldn’t get to be in this afternoon’s post, so I dug through a box to find some old hairs photos for Tie to pose with.

Here are front and back pix of me and Rowan from 2009, inside the front door of our house in Ogden. We happened to both be growing out our hairs at about the same time then. When we finally had our head hairs chopped off later that year, we donated our locks to make wigs for cancer patients.

Rowan’s teacher in 2009, at Hillcrest Elementary, was Mrs. Cameron. Rowan wasn’t much of a school terror that year, so I only met Mrs. Cameron once, in passing, at a school event. She seemed pleasant enough, and she was a tremendous influence on Rowan at the time. We heard plenty of Mrs. Cameron stories from Rowan around the dinner table—none of which I can remember now. Flash forward to last year at about this time. My sister, BT/Mercedes, sent me a heartbroken text about one of her long-time friends dying suddenly of pancreatic cancer. BT said the woman was smart, and kind, and generous right down to her toes. According to BT, her friend was a genuinely good-hearted being. BT said she had been a teacher in Ogden schools, and her name was Jeanne Cameron.

I did some fact-checking with Suzanne and realized Rowan’s incredible 6th Grade teacher and my sister’s incredible friend were one and the same person. You know how I am about connections and coincidences—and what we are supposed to learn from them. This woman was important in my sister’s life for decades, and this woman was a significant player in Rowan’s life for only one key year. It wasn’t until ten years after Rowan was done with 6th Grade—and Mrs. Cameron had just passed away—that BT and I accidentally stumbled upon the coincidence. Does this tiny connection mean something bigly and specific about the universe? Probably not. On the other hand, I think it is—at the very least—a reminder that we are likely the constant beneficiaries of the work of “strangers” who are connected to us in ways we will likely never know. That is yet another reason we should be civil to people, whether we know them or not.

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No, She’s Not Mrs. Claus

TIE O’ THE DAY sends a bigly Merry Birthday greeting to Suzanne’s mom, Geraldine. She turned 80 a few days ago. As my family did with Mom’s 90th birthday in September, Suzanne’s family kept it safe: no party. Instead, we all secretly grooved-up our cars and created a surprise birthday parade for the Mrs. Claus look-alike, right in front of her house. Our decorated cars circled the block twice, horns honking, probably annoying the neighborhood with our celebratory exuberance. After our second lap, we halted our parade in front of the house, got out of our cars, and sang “Happy Birthday” to Geri. To be honest, I only whisper-sang. I love Geri far too much to belt out a song at her with my questionable voice, even as part of a chorus—especially on her 80th birthday.

I’ve been trying to remember my first interaction with Suzanne’s mom, and my brain can trace it to 1985, when I couldn’t afford a haircut. Suzanne offered up her mom’s services, and Geri cut my head hairs as I sat on a chair behind their former house.

Mom has always said that she was blessed to have two wonderful mothers in her life: her own, and her mother-in-law. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t fully understand it in my heart until I got Geri.

BTW Please note that Skitter wore her tie for the parade. Look closely, and you’ll see her and her Tie o’ the Day in the car.

FYI A hug-less birthday sucks for everybody.

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Goodbye, Pandemic Hairs Thursday’s: Before And After The Cut

I was so busy posting about Mom last week that I skipped right over Pandemic Hairs Thursday. Mom’s much more interesting than my hairs could ever be anyway, so I’m sure nobody missed seeing my ‘do last week. Hey, my pandemic hairs were fun for the most part, but I couldn’t take them anymore. My hairs felt like they weighed a ton on one side of my head. Trying to hold up my head straight was causing me severe neck pain. Beyond that, I decided it would be respectful of me to show up looking well-kempt for Mom, outside MCR’s windows Saturday when I can wave at her on her 90th Birthday.

I finally got in touch with Miss Tiffany o’ Great Clips and she was able to fit me into her schedule this morning. My hairs haven’t seen her since February, before Suzanne and I went on vacation to Nashville. I have to admit I ended up feeling bigly bad to have enlisted Miss Tiffany to cut my hairs today, however. She was glad to see me and my birdies wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, but she was hobbled by a broken foot. Apparently, she broke it in a dancing accident in Wyoming. She had attended a wedding reception there last weekend, where she was dancing around while wearing extra-high heels. Miss Tiffany’s family kept admonishing her to take off the extra-high heels while dancing, or she was bound to fall. She finally got sufficiently irritated at her family harping on her about her extra-high heels that she shed them and put on some flats. She hit the dance floor again in “safer” shoes, at which time she promptly slipped on the dance floor in her flats, ripping up the tendons in her foot. She said her foot dangled from her leg all the way home from Wyoming. I asked her if it dangled like a participle. She wasn’t sure.

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Is This Barry’s And Mitt’s Pandemic Chia Hairs’ Last Stand?

I dunno for sure, but it looks to me like Barry’s Chia hairs aren’t really in the race anymore. Mitt, on the other hand, looks like his Chia hairs might have peaked already and are on the way to a strong shrivel. Hairs problems aside, they each borrowed a Tie o’ the Day from Skitter, so they clearly know the importance of starring on TIE O’ THE DAY for Pandemic Hairs Thursday.

This morning, I am so weary of my pandemic hairs that I couldn’t stand the thought of taking one more photo of them. I have called myself on a mission today to hunt down Miss Tiffany o’ Great Clips—to beg her to chop off my over-grown locks. She’s the only one I trust to properly hack away at my noggin fur. At this point, she’s gonna need a machete and a Weed Whacker to wrangle my mop into a semblance of order. I hope to present myself to y’all as freshly coiffed in my next post. Wish me bigly luck.