About a year ago Cowboy determined in his mind that I should be his barber. It was totally his idea, born from three clear facts:
1. he likes it cut every 4 weeks
2. barbers cost money
3. Cowboy is cheap
It became clear from the moment he conceived this idea that I had no say in the matter whatsoever, though I tried repeatedly to argue that I was NOT a barber. “There’s nothing to it,” said he, and off he went to the drug store to purchase a clipper kit.
It was late morning when he came back, tossed the kit on the table, plopped in the closest chair, closed his eyes and said “Whenever you’re ready.”
Oh boy.
Being the perfectionist that I am, I was nervous about my new responsibility, not that I didn’t have experience in barbering (if you can call it that). My dad was a barber by trade. He frequently cut hair for friends and family in our kitchen when I was growing up. I always enjoyed the buzz of his clippers as I sat watching him do his magic. I doubt Dad ever knew he was teaching me how to use a comb as a guide around the ears, or how to hold longer hair up with the comb and snip it with scissors...surely some of his talent had rubbed off on me over the years, right?
I rummaged through the pieces of the new kit, familiarizing myself with the contents, opened the little booklet titled “So You Think You Can Be a Barber” (or something of that nature), and began to read. I effectively stalled for about 10 minutes before Cowboy finally said “Sandra, I don’t have all day. Just do it. It will be fine.”
Easy for you to say Mr. Man of Few Words who knows nothing about these things, I thought to myself. Okay, here goes…deep breath…I can do this. And I did it; and it turned out fine. Cowboy opened his eyes, looked in the mirror, and congratulated me on a job well done. Pressing a thank you kiss on my forehead Mr. Cheapo said “Three more haircuts just like this and the kit will be paid for,” and out the door he went to do what Cowboy does.
From that day forward, every four weeks, I have cut his hair. Sometimes I cut it shorter, sometimes I leave it longer, sometimes I use fancy Dad-taught methods like using a comb to cut around his ears and trim his sideburns. I began to like being in charge of Cowboy’s hair. In fact, I started to feel a little proud of myself. Not to brag or anything, but his hair always turned out pretty darn good.
What is that Bible verse, again? “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” Yes, that’s the one. I should focus on it more frequently I suppose.
It was Saturday, four weeks since Cowboy’s last haircut, and just like clockwork, he brought the kit to me, plunked himself in the chair and closed his eyes for a nap. I set up shop, tied the cape around his neck, and humming my little haircutting tune began clipping away, clipping away, clipping away, until…
Oops. Before I could suck that word down deep into the hidden depths of my soul, it came tumbling out of my mouth in a low whisper, just like that: “Oops.”
There was no emotion involved, no gasp attached, just a simple oops…similar to the way I would say it if I’d dropped my napkin or some such thing.
You know, a girl can learn a lot with a little word like “oops.” It’s such a powerful word. It’s really amazing how that one simple little word, in combination with clippers in your hand, can strike fear in a man.
The moment I let that little “oops” fly, and as I assessed the damage over his right ear, Cowboy’s eyes popped wide open and his eyebrows did a little dance way up high on his forehead.
“What?” he growled.
Oh nothing…go back to sleep.
“No. What?”
Well, it’s just that, well, I’m thinking maybe I should cut your hair a little shorter this time…you know, warm weather and all.
I couldn’t help but notice his eyebrows as they turned down sharply, and his eyes got this little squinty thing going on.
“What did you do?” he muttered.
Well, it’s not bad really…okay, it’s kind of sort of a little bit bad.
“Can you fix it?”
Depends.
“Just taper it more.” And seemingly satisfied to have settled this little conundrum with such a simple solution, he closed his eyes again.
Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call denial. Clearly, reality had not yet struck Cowboy's brain, because to him it was simple: “just taper it more, I will finish my nap, and all will be good as new.” But for the life of me, I couldn’t recall ever learning from my dad how to “taper” around a bald spot, and I began to laugh out loud. It started as little stifled giggly stuff, then began to roll headlong into a bend-at-the-waist bellow, when (dummy me) blurted out:
Honey, I don’t think you understand the depths of this oops!
Cowboy was not amused. Uh-oh…low eyebrows and squinty eyes again.
“Fix it” he demanded.
I’ll try.
“Do something.”
Okay, okay, okay. How about this: we’ll give it three days and I will try again.
Cowboy did not laugh.
Five days tops, it will be good as new!
“Am I going to have to wear a hat in church tomorrow?”
Maybe.
“Just fix it.”
I know, I know! Let me find a marker, I’ll paint it!
“NO!”
I stood there laughing for what seemed like ten minutes. Cowboy sat expressionless, and I began feeling those steely blue eyes piercing me. After getting myself back under control and once again donning my clippers, I told Cowboy I would just cut it shorter. Lots shorter.
“Fine,” was all he said.
When I had finally done the best I could do, he went to the mirror to see for himself:
“That’s great.”
Yeah.
“I like my hair short any way.”
Good.
“I look mean.”
Sure you do.
“I look military.”
Yep.
“It’s fine.”
Whew!
“Just don’t let it happen again.”
And with that, he planted a kiss of reassurance on my forehead, and headed out to do what Cowboy does, bald spot and all. I guess that means Mr. Cheapo will be back in my chair again in four weeks.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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1 comment:
I love your writing, I love your humor, and I love that "Cowboy" has a bald spot....keeps 'em humble. LOL!!!
Mike just gave up on the haircuts long ago...as long as I keep a good supply of razors and shaving cream handy, he takes care of the rest. :)
And Matthew? I trust his thick mane to the barber. :)
Thanks for the laugh Sandy!!
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