Be Like Kate . . . or Not

During the pandemic we are all getting used to doing things a little differently--school, groceries, socializing, touching our face, working, eating out (by not really eating out), and our grooming routines--things like hair cuts. I wear my hair short and I can't stand it when it gets long enough to be the least bit unruly and wavy. Neither can my husband. He has a nice little wave on top of his head that he hates, when that wave starts to pop up and the little ripples of hair begin to grow down his neck, it's time to head to the barber. Sadly, the barber is unavailable due to COVID-19 and the ensuing social distancing. As a devoted wife, I am happy to step in and help any way that I can. Except drive the mower. Never the mower.

If you read my earlier post on the haircut situation, you're up to speed, good to go, ready to move on. If you didn't read it, you'll probably want to catch up. Right now.

After drawing Stage Three out for about as long as I could and "detoxing" the clippers in the back of my car for a few days, it was time for action. Since I found the good haircut scissors (yes, we do have some good scissors) by the bathroom sink and they were not placed there by me, I knew I better get myself together or the big guy was going to take matters into his own hands. My plan was to watch multiple YouTube videos during detox to learn the ins and outs of barbering skills and compare technique and approach. Those were lofty goals, at best. But each and every time I got out a device--any device--down the rabbit hole I'd go. Never once did I make it to YouTube on my own. I did have a couple of friends and family share a detailed video from The Small Things blog by Kate Bryan. It was an excellent video and made cutting hair using scissors and clippers LOOK so easy! But that was before we actually got into Stage Four. Here are his "before" photos or, as we prefer to call them, Stages 1-3.

I took a picture of his face. I told him he looked like a grumpy old man. He said it was because he IS a grumpy old man.

Stage Four was the real deal. It was late when we got started because, well, there was stuff to do. I watched the video. Ok. I watched PART of the video. I had my husband watch the video. Ok, again, PART of the video. All right, the truth is that I started the video as I started cutting, thinking I would cut along with Kate. There was a lot of detail and I'm not so much a detail person. And we were tired. Really tired. After a few heated conversations consisting of "What did she say? What did she do here? How did she do that?", we decided to just go for it. Goodbye, Kate and Justin. I proceeded to do it just like I do most things. Catch the big ideas and highlights and then wing it. Whatever you can't remember, improvise. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't.

My fingers had been itching for those clippers since they made their way into my car. I was scared and excited all at the same time. We got the clippers out and surveyed the attachments. There were seriously a LOT of guards. I picked one up that looked not too long and not too short. Just so you know, I did look at the numbers. They didn't mean a lot--1/2 inch of hair (especially short hair) is a lot different than a 1/2 inch of wood or fabric or a line on paper or when we're talking short hair vs. long hair. I attached the guard, plugged in the cord, pushed the button and went for the hair on the back of his neck--those curly little ripples that were trailing down. I swooped upward. Nothing. Not a single hair moved. I went a little higher into the thicker part, thinking it was safe. Straight up the middle. "Oops! Uh, there's sizable chunk out of the middle of the back." was not what the big guy wanted to hear. I thought I could make it disappear and did some more swoops on both sides of it. The oops was still visible but not quite as pronounced. However, the back of his head had quite a bit of Dorothy Hamill action going on. If you don't know who Dorothy Hamill is or the hair style she is famous for, look her up. I used my amazing problem solving skills at this point and put the clippers aside then picked up the good, old-fashioned scissors.

I have trimmed my mom's hair a few times over the years, so scissors weren't as foreign (or as exciting) to me as the clippers. I tried to mimic what I've seen my hair dressers do. Lift up the hair, daintily clip a little off. Tiny, precise chops. That got old fast. And his hair didn't cooperate very well. I know there is a method to where you cut--you do it here and then you do it there. Mostly, I cut here for awhile until I got tired and moved on to somewhere else. When I heard a "crunch" sound, I knew I had too much hair but, alas, the crunch sound came a tad too late to change that. I worked my way around, cutting a little here and little there. The big guy kept saying that he thought that was good. It was good enough. The only difference between a good haircut and a bad one was two weeks, he told me repeatedly. I think he was a little nervous. I got the mirror so he could see himself. But he couldn't see the back. Maybe that was on purpose, subconsciously, of course . . . I did a little trim around his ears and realized the next morning that I didn't even check to see if they were even. He suggested I use the clipper without the guards to "clean up his neck". I did that and he, brave man that he is, said I could even take it up a little higher. Was he crazy? Yes. Yes, he was. No way was that happening. I think he really was angling for that buzz cut, after all. Not today, my friend. So we removed the towel, brushed him off, and he showered for the second time in 30 minutes. To be honest, it was way more than 30 minutes. Hair was everywhere--tiny pieces of whiteness. His shorts were covered. I was covered. The floor was covered. The counter was covered. That's just one more of those secrets that hairdressers keep to themselves--how to keep from looking like a furry kitten by the end of the day. And here is how he looked "after" or as we call it Stage Five:

I'm not sure if this is hair lines or shadow, but he says it's all good. 

Oh, my. I see some clipper lines in this photo. Who knew? 

By the way, there is not something hanging out of his nose, it's the back end of the dog behind the recliner. 

If you are looking for a blog to tell you how to give a man a haircut, this is probably not the one for you. You need Kate. Go find her. Her video is great. My hunger to master the clippers is growing. The dog clippers arrived yesterday.  Wish me luck. 

The Times They Keep A-Changin'

As the death toll rises and cases grow exponentially, we are settling into doing without things we used to take for granted and making do the best we can. We watch with fear and anxiety as we are thankful for the health we've been able to keep so far and pray for safety and health of everyone else. We send special prayers to those who have fallen victim to this dreadful affliction and for their loved ones who must often be separated from them as they undergo treatment alone. As we keep these concerns in our minds and hearts, we work to find a bit of lightheartedness anywhere we can.

Things are getting pretty desperate in our house. My husband was just on the edge of needing a haircut when it was recommended that we stay home. Since he is high risk, I didn't think it was a good idea to go into his favorite but very small barber shop to get that taken care of. For once, he complied. It's now safe to say, he's over the line of simply needing a haircut. Although his hair is snow white, he still has a very full head of it. It is wavy and is definitely driving him crazy. Let's just say that one of the talents that God gave me is not styling, cutting, or doing anything with hair. But the guy needs a haircut and I'm the one here. We haven't made it to the actual haircut yet. We're still in the prep stages.

Stage One was finding some clippers. We don't intend on this being a regular thing once this pandemic is over (if it ever really is over), so I didn't want to spend a huge amount on tools. I know nothing about clippers. Nada. So, I got on Amazon and read a few reviews. It was cheap evening entertainment and, boy, was it entertaining. Check them out sometime. Just search hair clippers for men and then read the reviews on the cheaper range--those around $20-30. Oh, and don't miss the questions. Let's just say upstairs and downstairs has taken on a whole new meaning in my sheltered world. What were those people thinking? It was tough to find something affordable. Affordable by my new, pandemic dictated standards. Not finding any reviews that didn't say they were junk in the cheaper price range, I moved on to Walmart, strongly encouraged by the hair cut needing husband to get them as quickly as possible. Amazon is taking a little longer these days and he would prefer a cut sooner than later. I found one on Walmart and had it "pick up in store" which leads me to Stage Two.

Stage Two required me to go into the store. Oh, geez, another round of anxiety. This was the same store where we purchased our groceries the last two weeks. It wasn't senior hour but it was Sunday morning. There were some big changes . . . they were allowing only a certain number of shoppers in the store. They kept track by having an employee stand between the entrance and exit and click an iPad when someone entered and someone left. There were cones showing the path you were to come in and more to guide you out. There were a lot more masks visible on shoppers. There were markings on the floor to show you where to stand while waiting to check out or make an inquiry. Folks in the store all had lists and were staying far apart--which was much easier to do with limits on how many could be shopping at a given time. This was my first experience at "pick up in store" at this particular location. I went to the front counter and waited quite awhile while the clerk got a piece of her Dove chocolate and started to walk away. "Excuse me, ma'am? I have an order to pick up." She directed me ALL the way to the BACK of the store where it was tucked in around a corner. It took a long time to get the order identified, checked in and out, and get the package out. I was then asked to sign a receipt with the clerk's pen! NO!!!!! But I did it and then I sanitized my hands. Pick up in store needs to talk to Pharmacy about not making people touch/sign things. No gloves--but that's a whole other discussion. I grabbed up my package and made my way all the way back to the front of the store and out the front door. I felt like I had run the gauntlet. I had to walk by so many things that I wanted to pick up and purchase. They had bleach today. They had the cotton yarn I am nearly out of because I am now a semi-professional dishcloth maker. Don't judge me. But I soldiered on to Stage Three.

Stage Three is that the clippers are still sitting in the cargo area of my car--way in the back. I am letting them "detoxify" a few days, or so I told the guy needing the haircut. Honestly, I am trying to figure out how I am going to explain to him the mess I've made of his hair. I know the explanation is going to be needed so I'm just being proactive. And he's not even a picky guy about his hair. But  those 95 cowlicks may prove to be a challenging dilemma. Maybe I'll just agree to a buzz cut. The one he's been wanting for years and I have denied him. He really should get something out of this pandemic and for going to work every day to do his essential job, right? Stay tuned for Stage Four. And, just so you know, the dogs got some clippers, too.