It all started on Friday when Adam tried to get his biweekly haircut. He is accustomed to paying not one red cent over $10 for a haircut. Actually until a few years ago he went to a particular barber shop that only charged him $5, but he had to get up at 5 AM on Saturdays in order to "beat the old women who would be lined up at 6 to get their hair permed." Once while we were in college he took for granted that people in Auburn cut hair for $10 and got his haircut without asking the price in advance. He ended up paying $25 and I still hear about it TO. THIS. DAY. Followed by... "and then they had a tip jar! Here's your tip- look both ways before crossing the road." You tell em' A-Master.
The odd thing is that Adam isn't cheap by any stretch of the imagination. We are talking about a man who without reserve will pay upwards of $50 for a fishing pole (which I swear he has one just like it in the barn). And in an effort to avoid sheer pandemonium at Wal Mart he begs me to grocery shop at Winn Dixie. He is a lot of things, but cheap he is not. Until we start talking about his hair. Because, really, who cares about their hair?
He declares that his hair doesn't get long only poofy. In essence A-Master gets an Afro if he goes too long without a trim. He went to his regular girl on Friday and the unacceptable occurred. Someone was already in front of him and he just couldn't bear to sacrifice 10 minutes to wait his turn. So he revolted and didn't get a haircut because he couldn't be bothered with all that waiting.
Fast forward to Saturday. I am currently on the pastor search committee at our church and the committee along with our spouses were having dinner with our, fingers crossed, new pastor and his family Saturday night. While we were in Oxford on Saturday Adam realized that his hair had crossed over into "Afro" status and something must be done. An Afro at our dinner date would simply send the wrong impression. He called one of the salons to inquire about their pricing. In his most serious and mature voice I hear..., "Um, yes ma'am could you tell me the price of your gentleman's haircuts?" (Seriously, gentleman's???) He promptly hung up when he was informed the going rate was $17.95. Unacceptable, people. Unacceptable.
So the 4 of us came home (me, Reese, Adam and his 'fro') and started preparing for our dinner date. Reese helped me make the one and only dish I ever take anywhere- Cast Iron Skillet Apple Pie. I can't take credit for the recipe. I married into it. And I must say that it is a little piece of Heaven right in your mouth!
I had to be at the dinner early so I left Adam behind to get ready and meet me there later. When we got home later that night he ask as he turned his head from side to side,
"So did you notice anything different about me?"
"No. What?"
"I did a little trimming on my hair after you left."
Lord have mercy.
"You did what?"
And then, as he makes clipping motions with his fingers all over his head, I hear "yeah, I used the thinning sheers and just randomly cut."
That sound ya'll just heard was hair stylist far and wide gasping in horror.
On Friday he couldn't bear to wait 10 minutes to get his haircut, but on Saturday he has 30 minutes to waste CUTTING HIS OWN HAIR!
He said that after he "thinned out the 'fro'" so much hair started coming out that he proclaimed out loud to himself, "Uh oh, LeeLee isn't going to like this!"
Bless his heart. With a hair crisis surrounding him who does he think of? Not himself, but his wife. He is a compassionate soul. Thankfully, it wasn't evident to the uninformed eye that he had played beauty shop with thinning sheers. Although after he mentioned it I could tell the 'fro' seemed smaller.
Anyway, on to more important matters. Just to let you know next week is Spring Break. I wasn't sure if I had mentioned that or not. There are rumors that A-Master is taking me on a date that might or might not include a movie and a trip through Chick-Fil-A's drive through for ice cream on the way home. He knows the way to my heart. I desperately need to get my hair "did" next week, but I shiver at the though of having to be somewhere at a certain time during my week off. My hearts desire is to have NOTHING to do next week. Just as I was telling Adam that exact statement this list was presented to me...
What? What'd you say? You didn't know I was a landscaper?
Me neither.
Just my opinion...the list is a little ambitious considering it took us 2 years to paint our back door. I mean, with that kind of list when will I have time to sit and stare at Reese while watching her hair grow?
You are hilarious! I love when you have a new story!
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