Lowering The Ears

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Getting a haircut is not much to blog about I know but it’s really all I have done today. I did make a quick trip to the grocery store for just a few things and of course I forgot one of the most important items. We are having spaghetti (thank you spell check) and I forgot the garlic bread. I bought the hamburger meat for the sauce and patties for tomorrow night’s hamburger simplicity and a plethora of other things but clearly exited the establishment without the butter filled fattening necessity garlic bread. I know, how could I?!?!? A quick text message to Michele has since solved yet another conundrum.  She will pick it up on the way home from work like the excellent mom and wife that she is. I call her wife because at this point that’s how we act, married. I mean that in the best most loving way. OK, the haircut. I traveled to the location where I have been several times since my migration to Albany by way of the bank.  Nothing happened at the bank, thank God. As I entered, a nice lady, who we will affectionately call Velma,  was sitting in her barber/styling chair reading a magazine. Make no mistake this is not her real name, at least I hope not but it fits her to a T. The gentleman who usually cuts my hair was busy rounding off a flat-top of some poor unsuspecting victim who was already strapped in. But as south Georgia barbershop etiquette goes, you wait on the same old man who always cuts your hair no matter how many other available barbers/stylists there are.  Wait, I did. As the victim emerged from the chair I noticed the glance in the mirror he gave that soon came with a facial expression of grim despair. He quickly paid and was off like maybe his taco lunch had called his name with a  bull horn. I was directed in the chair and gave in willingly. This gentleman  has cut my hair fives times now but always needs a quick rundown on how I want it. If you don’t know me it’s, well, SHORT!!! There is no style to my hair. If I was in shape and could dislocate my shoulders I could reach around and cut it myself. As I instructed him with the complicated style that is mine Velma says to my barber, “I need to learn how to do a cut like that, that’s the only haircut I don’t k now how to do”.  This statement would normally be sad in my mind because of the simplicity in cutting my hair. If you can turn on the clippers and navigate your way around my Beldar like cone-head you’re doing fine. However, for reasons unknown to you, the unfortunate reader, I have deeper concerns. As I stated, this is the fifth time this man has laid clippers to my crown but this is the sixth visit to this particular rodeo. The first visit to this fine establishment was back in the summer and guess who got the tip that day, yes, you’re the lucky winner, Velma.   She cut my hair the very first time I went there. Amazingly enough, she did a great job!! I only wait for the old man because that’s what a south Georgia boy is supposed to do. NO MATTER WHAT!!! So she cuts my hair the very first trip there but now she wants training on how to cut my hair. Does anyone else see a problem with this? Again, if you don’t know me, how lucky you are, but I can’t stand obvious things like this. I’m not polite enough to just let it go. With a concerned but joking tone I called her out. I explained to her that she has already cut my hair and did a good job. Yes, the room was silent. I’m bad about putting people on the spot but I do like the company in that uncomfortable space. The old man just laughed and Velma scrambled for a reply.  She came up with one but it was an obvious attempt at a cover up. She said that she wanted to learn how to do a flat-top. A flat-top?!?! My cone-head can’t hold a flat-top. They didn’t call me “Beldar” in school for nothing! Anyway, I let her have her excuse and said nothing but kind words about her previous attempt. It was about this time the old man said he was done skinning me, I mean cutting my hair and he let me out of the harness, I mean barber chair. I gave the the same glance into the mirror as the earlier fella and formed the same grimace. I too, left like it was beans and rice for lunch. Now, I understood.

Bryan

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