Identity Search

In the years of our acquaintance, my hairdresser has

- owned his own shop with his wife         

- sold that business while his wife worked in a completely different field   

- rented a chair somewhere         

- rented a chair somewhere else       

- returned to owning his own shop again with his wife.

          I’ve followed him from pillar to post because that’s what you do when you’ve found someone capable of consistent results and normal conversation.

          Another selling point is that like my doctor, he’s a bit younger than me and so will be around for a while.  (Unless, God forbid, he has an epiphany of some kind and decides to pack up again.)

          And so, thought I, at least the hair portion of my life is under control.

          Wrong.

          I’ve started all over again. Once again I’m working through, “Should I keep it long?”  “Should it be shorter?” “Which cut is more flattering?”

          But not for me. I now have a new crop of hair to manage.

         

          After years of wearing my cats everywhere – dark pants coated in the orange cat’s fur, light pants coated in the black cat’s fur – and floors with cat hair blowing across like tumbleweed, we now have a pet that doesn’t shed.

          Good news, except that non-shedding hair keeps growing, so I have another hairdresser (aka groomer) on my calendar.

 

          We’re still in the trial and error stage.

Mamie as a weensy sheepdog     --->

         

 This week’s effort was closer to the mark.

Now, like that perfect coiffure you bring home from the salon, if I could only duplicate that fluffy coat and those clean white paws at home.