The Salon

Have you ever noticed that babies and old people don't have to comb their hair?

At age 33, it's getting difficult to remember back 25 years to make absolute statements that "I never [blank]." However, I don't ever recall having had my hairs cut (yes, all of them) in a salon. Although I'm not a drinker, it's more recent that I've been in a saloon than a salon. It's possible that while in college I ventured outside the more traditional barber shop and had my hair cut at a salon, but it seems I've blocked it out of my mind.

The red and white spinning cylinder in front of the barber shop is nice too - it helps us recoginze that Chop Tops is only a symbolic name. Otherwise, nobody's going inside of a place called Chop Tops ... does that mean your head? Or your scalp? Symbolism can be tricky for me.

And if I read magazines, I'd comment on how it's much better at the barber shop than the salon.

It's just not a natural feeling being there at all, even if I'm not the one having my hair cut. They like to ask you if you want your hair washed, or a manicure, or a pedicure. And it's hard to tell if they're trying to make me look gullible because that's such a stupid question ... or if they are trying to make money off of me.

You see, I endured YEARS of "Bobby" (not his real name to protect his livelihood) cutting my sideburns crooked in order to not have to change barbers. Bobby had even cut the New York Yankees logo into the side of my hair back in junior high, that is ... with the help of the feminine barber who worked the chair next to him. But I liked the barber shop. He would talk about the Chiefs or golf, and that felt normal. Something to create normality out of a situation where a man with scissors and razors stares at you and spins you around in circles for 30 minutes. Why the spinning chair anyway? I think it's to make you dizzy (I get dizzy easy) so that you're disoriented when he asks you if you like his work. (((Uhhhh, what?))) Yeah, it's short enough. How much do I owe you? See you later.

So after Bobby, I tried several barbers in Waco during college. They all stunk too, but since Bobby's version was a familiar stinch it was more comfortable. One barber in Waco only charged $4, and he cut hair one way ... short. He wasn't messing around with how you wanted it done, he just buzzed it pretty short and said you're through. I think he spun 4 people an hour through that chair. You had to go there at least once to get the experience, but only the guys who were really poor went a second time.

Most recently, I was using the "hair college" girls ... now that's an interesting crowd. But they only charged $6 I think. Now those were some bad haircuts too, even though their "teacher" came by and fixed it. Fixed is a relative term on a sliding scale that's been greased. But after two home haircuts that ended up looking like a cross between Dumb & Dumber and a mullet, the college girls skill was recognizable even though in its infancy.

So now I'm married which means I get input from Lauren. She picked out a style, which is a word that I was unfamiliar with having come out of the barber shop scene, from a picture in a magazine. You see, this just felt like Siberia to me, because you can't go up to Bobby and say, "Hey, see Larry Bird here in this Sports Illustrated that was on the table ... I want it just like that." He would have sat you down and cut your hair the exact same way he did every other visit and completely ignored the Larry Bird picture. He'd say, "How much do you want cut off?" I would reply, "About this much," with the hand gesture indicating 1 inch. Then he'd cut off about twice that to make sure he had it short enough the first time through in order to make his next appointment.

So we're at Raena's artsy salon. While there, I told Raena that although the dentist chair is the place of feeling uncomfortable for most people, it's the salon chair for me. Then she spun me sideways, my first ever sideways experience, so I couldn't see anything. She said this was to help me relax.

The music is a lot different at a salon too ... and the artwork ... and number of women ... and of course the conversation. We even had to drive quite a ways ... to the artistic part of the city. This was quite the ordeal. So you may be wondering after this long of a write-up about the results, especially after this many years of searching for a decent cut. Well, Raena convinced me to wait a week. That was expert advice, just like when she said it would feel a LOT different in the shower. I really didn't like it much at the salon, but it's literally growing on me.

So we've tried with mousse, without ... combing vs. moppy, part down the side vs. part down the middle, shower vs. no shower. My biggest concern at the salon was that it was too much of a "model" cut. But it seems to have settled into a hybrid mop/prep/gray hairs look. So, hey, it's not frosted look with a pony tail on my hawg, but it's a good cut. Shout out of thanks to Lauren, Raena, and to all my fans who are encouraging me during my insecure week.

Now Lauren did say that I could have a true John the Baptist look, but that I'd have to wait until the end times were shaking everything that can be shaken ... which I think means our pocket book when it's best to eat instead of get my hairs cut. She also said we could get a side-car.

Pet Pieves

People walking their greyhound dogs. Don't those dogs like to run?

Or when you print something off the Internet and 90% of the time there's an extra page with about 2 lines of unnecessary "footer" on the wasted "page 3 of 3." Then you waste 5 seconds of your life wondering if you should put it back in the printer for re-use, or if your next print job will be important ... and then you've wasted all that ink on a bad piece of paper. Argh.

Or sitting down in the driver's seat, only to find that my wife's 5'3" frame is not consistent with my 6'1" frame. Easy way to injure your hip on the steering wheel as you sit down. Side note: I noticed that Leah's 5'2" frame was even more painful. I couldn't even wrap my arm around the steering wheel to reach the seat adjuster. I had to sit sideways and reach around the near side of the steering wheel, which is a good way to pull a side muscle.

Or home repairs ... any of them other than painting. I had to replace a light bulb the other day, but of course it was above the sink. So a chair was necessary, but not quite sufficient. Standing on the counter top was really the only solution. Except at 6'1" you can't stand striaght up, so I was slouched over. Yet moving closer to the light bulb was impossible, as a "decorative" board was blocking my access to the light. So I managed to stand on the 3 inch space of the sink between the basin and your stomach. After gaining my balance, I realized that said decorative board was blocking my view, and I would have to change this bad boy without seeing it. No problem, right? Then I realized that this light bulb cover had those nut/screw jobbies that hold the cover in place. Although they had slots for a flat head screw driver, this decorative board once again wreaked HAVOC on any possibility of a screwdriver fitting up in there. So I strong fingered them out, slowly since Samson owned my home previously and really made sure that bulb cover wouldn't fall out accidentally. After successfully avoiding usuing foul language, albeit complaining some, I finally got that cover off.

The next step was so graceful and fluid even Bob Vila would have admired my work. I unscrewed the light bulb and then climbed down. Perfection.

The next step was not so smooth. I re-installed the light cover, though only after much jostling with the cover, blinded by that "attractive" decorative board. After climbing down and having worked up a small sweat, which any home repair does even if it's winter time, I realized the final blow. I had forgotten to insert the new light bulb.

Why blog? Is it the comments?

So I've been in the blogging world for a few weeks now as an experiment. It seems to be going okay ... but there need to be more comments. It may or may not be a vain thing, but the interaction is the key. Without comments, this is just an email that nobody replied to. Written feedback is no different than when someone nods or smiles when you're talking to them. Otherwise these blogs are just words blasted out into space. Even us quiet people who write blogs like a little acknowledgement that we're talking/writing.

Fellow bloggers of local fame have chimed in recently. Leah said, "Do we appreciate the comments because we like to know people are reading?" Yes ... as a matter of fact we do. If it weren't for the comments, I think my blog experiment would be over. It's not about me hoping to impact the world ... it's about knowing that I'm impacting the world!

Susan said, "Yeah, comments are definitely the best part about having a blog. It's not really about getting your two cents in, showing off your original humor, or even sending your deepest thoughts out to the wide world of the internet. . .it's all about the comments."

It doesn't take that long to post a comment. You've already read the article. It only takes 10 more seconds to type in an encouraging comment ... or only 30 seconds to think of something creative or funny to say.

So next time you access the world wide web with your personal computer with user friendly interface like Windows XP, just remember ... "it's all about the comments."

Back by Popular Demand!

Wow, the fans are all over me this week. Desperate cries for new material, petitions for justice in regard to the slanted polling system ... what's next? Server crashing due to excessive traffic?

Newsflash ..................................... Maasen, Cassie, and Jacklynn will all be joining the blog community soon. Feel free to comment on why I'm the only guy in the blog sub-culture.

So yes we had a poll close this week, and that needs to be addressed. Although "Arrows of Hope" makes a logical argument for her innocence, the poll clearly shows otherwise. That's enough for me. If we need secondary evidence, we see that logic does not prevail in embarrassing situations. Emotions take over so that decisions made are quite random ... as evidenced by awkward behavior on first dates. I admit that Ruble/Brandy was the obvious choice, but that was without further reflection upon the complexities of the human soul. With the poll being closed now, it seems we can't change the evidence that SUSAN IS THE MYSTERY POOPER!!!

(Please vote at our new poll if to help resolve the details behind this case)

Pool Stories

With my wife out of town, I have time for a second post this week. Plus, I have something that's "bloggable." Kudos to Tom/Leah for that word.

So Mark and I are talking about the Olympics, specifically how some events are quite boring. You know, any event that has judging instead of a "real" winner. Those judges from East Germany were soooo picky! Far too subjective based on emotions and bad pizza for lunch. After strolling down memory lane, we relived the day when Greg Louganis cracked his head on the diving board. Mmmmmmm, that'll leave a mark.

Now my pool memories are only from child hood. Sorry, Susan, but my adult pool stories don't consist of laying out (which I hate also because you get so hot!) but rather supervising Harrison. Typically it's me and the moms trying to keep our kids from swalling too much water.

But the topic came up with Mark regarding our childhood days at the pool ... specifically the diving board. Now after watching Greg's melon split open like a can of tomato sauce, as I child I really had no desire to get brave on the diving board or try out Rodney Dangerfield's Triple Lindy. I had enough red body parts after dives gone bad. So I never felt the need to try flips because of the visual and audio (have you ever heard a man's head hit a diving board?) memory of that one event.

So my creativity was often limited to - bum, bum, bum, boing, CAN OPENER! Come up for air, look at the lifeguard to see if I'm in trouble (the whistle may have blown when I was under water!), and then swim to the edge. Okay, so I was trying to splash the life guard with my can opener, thus the guilty conscience. But my cool points were never as high as pool guy who did a triple flip, double twist gaynor (is there a correct spelling of that word?) from the low dive. But hey, have you ever heard a man's head hit a diving board? So I'd mix in the cannonball, intentional belly flop, toothpick, "dive and touch the bottom" ... or an assortment of others with names not repeated publicly. I also never felt the need to do a handstand on the diving board, hold that position for ten seconds, and then fall into the water ... with no splash. Like it would have won me a free snack during the next adult swim?

A few other memories from the pool ... obviously the hot tub. ERRRRRR, kiddie pool as they called it. Then the week at Tomahawk pool when there was a mysterious brown substance at the bottom of the pool in the 3 foot section. No idea why that didn't get cleaned up sooner than a week. It was obviously dirt, right?

Then the day when I determined that I was definitely over 4 feet tall ... because when I stood RIGHT NEXT to the sign that said the water was four feet deep my head stuck out a bit.

Or the times when, while playing catch in the pool with the nerf ball (diving catches were the goal - as cool points went way up then) Jason would intentionally throw the nerf ball at one of the moms. I would then have to go get it and apologize for his "bad" throw. If you've ever seen a wet ball hit a woman in the face, they're not smiling afterwards.

So we weren't studying Talmud growing up, but they were good times.

Rookie on the Field

Well I'm joining the ranks of the blog world. My trial run here may be an indicator of future posts ... maybe not. Basically, I'm quite fascinated by the fact that so many people are doing blogs, etc. these days. I'm guessing it will be like text messaging - it seems unappealing until you try it.

So I'm at the synagogue the other day, and Rabbi points out how many comedians are Jewish. Groucho Marx, Jerry Lewis, Rodney Dangerfield, Jerry Seinfeld, Adam Sandler, and CARROT TOP! So many others I've forgotten already. It's giving me hope that as I become more Jewish then I'll be funnier. I'm not sure why it's so appealing to be funny. Humor must originate in Hashem, yet humor seems to be left out in His Word. Instead we find irony ... like when Isaiah ran around naked for awhile. It's so unusual that nervous laughter seems to be the response. Also, I don't particularly care for the reference to Psalm 2 when people declare that He laughs ... as in humor. That's obviously a mocking laugh at wicked people.

Anyhow, it's autumn now which means lots of yard work. I don't mind because summer and winter and not times for being outside. So whether it's mowing in the spring or leaves in the fall ... I like getting back outside. I just finished tilling the dirt in a few sections of my yard to help with proper drainage away from the foundation of the house. Power tools are usually good times, plus Harrison was helping out. I was able to explain that we do our work well in order to glorify G-d, creating a place where He would like to live. He seemed to understand ... and he seemed to finish his work without getting distracted or complaining. Baruch Hashem! The other day he initiated a conversation about how happy he was with the way our relationship was going ... very sensitive for a 10 year old.

Noah is getting more fun to play with also. He laughs when you tickle him now, and he smiles almost any time you try to get him to. We're looking forward to raising him up as a mighty warrior. The other day I told him, "You have no idea how blessed you are to be born into this family." I really believe that. Sometimes when he's crying, I tell him, "It's really not that bad. You have a great life."

Finally, my latest discovery is that you have to replace sin with righteousness. Up until recently, I knew that confessing sin was the right first step. After that though, what does a righteous lifestyle look like? For some reason the tradition I was raised in never supplied enough clarity behind this. Yet the lifestyle we are learning at synagogue is defining reality in a way that is DIFFERENT ... yet makes sense. For example, somebody recently said that anybody can learn some answers and provide them to other people, but learning to ask questions is a true skill. Not only is this true, but I think it's part of living a righteous lifestyle. It's much more effective, and it's a lot more fun also. You have to really think before you speak, but it's a lot more fun because of the challenge. Then you get to watch them wrestle ... otherwise they just dismiss what you said as "someone's opinion."

Well that's all for now. Shalom.