Itís hard to know where to begin after all this time, but letís start with the saddest news. Suzanneís beloved cat Jetson was hit by a car and killed over the weekend. She and John were out of town, and Eric and David had the cat buried by the time they got home. That was one blessing. The other is that he obviously didnít suffer, since there were no marks on him. Itís a difficult time, because Jetson was a cat with a lot of personality and an independent spirit that will be missed.
And now that Iíve said that, I really donít want to talk about my haircut. But I will, since I have some catching up to do.
Last time I got my hair cut I complained that it was so short it made me look like Julius Caesar. I hated it for about two days, and then I liked it. It required no actual maintenance, and I didnít have to think about it at all. Then it started to grow, as it always does, and before I knew it I was combing it with a part, the way I did when I was younger (and it was brown). I didnít mind the combing, but it started feeling clammy and looking shaggy.
After putting it off for a few weeks, for various random reasons that had nothing to do with my hair, I took the time last Friday to get a haircut. At first I had a hard time convincing my stylist that I really wanted it that short. I had to sort of bully her into going all in, and I ended up with even less hair than last time. Now instead of Julius Caesar, Iím looking more like Uncle Fester. And loving it.
That same day it fell to me to pick Dakota up from school. It was his first week in the mainstream kindergarten at the big school. I didnít know if heíd even recognize me, but as soon as he saw me, he told his aide, ďHe came to get me.Ē He immediately put his hand in mine as we walked to my car. He chattered about his day all the way home, and when we pulled up in front of his house, he asked, ďCan I get out?Ē before he unbuckled his seat belt.