This time of year, the lodge is only open on weekends, so Juanita and I have time to do things together. We go for rides on our horses, go to town to go shopping, go to our dentist and doctor appointments, etc. A couple days ago we went to the laundry mat to wash a bunch of comforters. Next door to the laundry was one of those chain-hair-cutting places, though not the chain I usually go to. My usual hair-cutting place has a computer network that tells the stylist how I like my hair. This is important, as I lack the communication skills necessary to let the stylist know how I should look when they are done with my head.
"How do you normally brush you hair?" she asked.
"I just brush it straight back." I replied.
"Umm... I don't think there is enough left to do that with now." was her response. "Would you like to buy some gel?"
This morning I looked into the mirror and said "My head looks like an unwatered, dead Chia Pet." Brown and gray stubble growing out of a clay head. Nice. Fortunately, it only adds to my image as a man of mystery.
"Why do you suppose he did THAT to his head?"