Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

For the first time ever, I cut Dave’s hair with the precision of Edward Scissorhands’ landscaping skills. Take the sheers and pull back as you cut, was the tip from the YouTuber. Although it seemed bass-ackward, it worked! As did the flip of the comb, and using its level as a guide.

All the times I’ve cut his hair – notables include our front lawn and feet from the rushing waves at the ocean – I’ve provided him a non-tipping Supercuts hack. But today? I was a virtuoso Gene Juarez employee of the year. Need a haircut?!

But I feel guilty too; Dave’s just past shoulder length, shiny, thick, auburn-colored locks are a hair stylist’s dream. And that I hoard them all to myself feels criminal.

As for me, my last trim was on vacation and will be likely happen again on that same trip.

Whether it’s buzzing my head like Sinead O’Connor or dyeing it platinum blond, I get a thrill out of pushing the envelope within myself with my hair. Am I past all the crazy hair stages? Likely. But who’s to say turning 50 in nine years won’t send me into an existential reboot?

I feel like I’m on the verge of something; just a few more pegs and I’ll be at the top of the climbing wall. But what if the precipice is simply a mirage? Just thinking that’s the case makes my insides all squirrely.

Life’s interesting in that you never quite know where you are in it. I realize I’m 41 years old but how much longer do I have? I hope I’m in the middle of my movie, but what if, in actuality, I’m closer to the end? At my age, my Mom was nearing the closing ceremonies and I’m certain she didn’t realize it.

I knew someone with a countdown on their phone of the time they had left in their life. I questioned them as to why, and even with their answer, I didn’t and still wouldn’t feel comfortable having the number diminishing in front of my face.

I’m tempted to look. A Pearl Jam’s lyric popped in just now, “That what you fear the most will meet you halfway.” Fine, I’ll check.

Damn! I have a 75% chance of living to 90. But I could have had 3.5 more years more if I drank two to seven drinks per week. Really?!

I showed Dave, and he’s sure the data’s not right. I’m with him. In learning more, it appears there is no direct link between alcohol use and increasing longevity. The most significant factor is an individual’s health.

I just put the final log on the fire, the one I’ll fall asleep to. After one last sleep at our cabin, we’ll return to our fish, cats, ducks, school, and work responsibilities.

I’ll see you back in the 253 area code tomorrow.

Take care, and I hope you had a lovely weekend.

Love, Jaclynn

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