Sally Eats Egg-salad!

Hi, my name is Jeff and I’m a blog stalker. (Hi Jeff!)

Valerie keeps a healthy bookmark list of interesting blogs for me to look at. I stalk the people in our ward as well as friends far and near and family too. I’ve found that some of my favorite blogs belong to total strangers and I run across them as I click on links on other people’s blogs and then other links on those ones.

Some blogs I run across find families knee deep in Indiana-Jonesish adventures, zip-lining through the jungles of Costa Rica and the like. Other’s are focused on mundane daily tasks. (Look at 57 pics of little Sally eating an egg-salad sandwich! Isn’t she a doll!?)

This post falls in to the latter category. Look at us, we got haircuts!

Yes, this past Saturday morning, Valerie had decided that among the many things we had to accomplish boys’ haircuts were high on the priority list. Zach received a merciful reprieve from this round of cuts as he still sheds his hair naturally.

The other three of us were beginning to look like the Beatles. And I mean the bad Let It Be version, not the good Help version and it was definitely time for us to go in.

Now, those of you who know me wouldn’t think that I am very particular about where I get my haircut but in actuality nothing could be further from the truth. We live probably within ¼ mile of several places you could get a clip. Places like Supercuts. Places in which no man should ever have to set foot.

You see, to me there is something deeply emasculating about a man being in one of these places where they wrap you in a flower-pattern plastic smock and take you to the back to get your hair washed. Hello, I have a shower at home! How ‘bout you just cut my hair?

Also, they always seem to grab a lock of your hair and rub it between their thumb and forefinger and ask you “what kind of product have you been using?” while giving you that disparaging look. You know the same one your dentist gives you when he asks how often you floss. Let me remind you, I am a man. My shampoo of choice is Liquid Drano. If my hair can’t handle it, it doesn’t deserve to be on my head. It is the Darwinian approach to hair care. Incidentally, I’m convinced this is why you see so many bald men.

About 15 years ago, I decided that I would have no more of this and decided that from that moment forward I would only get my haircut in a true men’s barber shop. Unfortunately it seems that for some reason this is a dying species and they are getting to be fewer and fewer of these to be found. I’m talking about the good old places with a row of real barber chairs lined up, a pole up front and newspapers to be read.

The only conversation in these shops revolves around. Doesn’t (fill-in-the-blank-local-sports-team) stink? Isn’t (fill-in-the-blank-local-politician) and idiot? And, isn’t price of (fill-in-the-blank-something-expensive) ridiculous?

They cut your hair in any of your choice of any the most popular styles of 1958, shave your neck with hot lather and a straight edged razor (which also just happens to be a great way to learn how to hold perfectly still should you be training for a career as a mime) and even trim your eyebrows should they be getting bushy.

Unfortunately, for some reason the great atmosphere of these places has been lost on you younger generation and even mine. These shops seem to mostly be filled with old men. I fear for where I will be getting my own hair cut ten years down the road.

Valerie thinks this is just another of my symptoms of regret for not having lived in the 50’s.

Well, I want to make sure my boys don’t miss out on this so on Saturday morning when we all needed clips, we loaded up the family cruiser and headed to my favorite shop in Federal Way on the corner of 272nd and Pacific Hwy South.

Ben was up first since he is the least patient in the family and had been waiting long enough by the time his chair was open. I remembered getting a cut when I wasn’t much older than him in much the same way. They have that booster board they put on the barber chair that rests on the arms of the chair that you sit on and the barber squeezes your cheeks nice and tight as a way of holding your head still.

Within a few minutes, Ben was done and it was now time for Josh and I to get our clips. Being the GQ fashion-maven that I am, I opted for the very trendy Johnny Unitas clip for the both of us.

Before we knew it, we were both done too. Everyone got a sucker (that instantly turned nouths and hands blue) but me and we were on our way again with nary a mention of “product” which is good since I still have plenty of Drano at home.