Hair

Merril cuts hair.  A lot of people were onto this ages ago, but we have only been doing it the last few years.
Once a month or so Merril does my hair.  She indicates it is time to do my face. Every time I tell her it is too late as I am what I am.  Then she reminds me she means my hair.
I remember suggesting to a barber I should be charged less as I had less hair.  His answer was “search fees.”  At that same salon someone beeped their car outside. I asked the barber if that was one of his mates.  I think he was offended.
I reckon Merril is pretty good and getting better all the time.  The blood no longer pools.  Actually there has never been blood.  I do draw the line at the use of scissors though.  Everything that gets trimmed is either a six or a three or nothing.  It must be a sign I am getting older.  The hair on the ears is trimmed, and inside the ears. 
Before Merril started doing my hair, her dad suggested I reminded him of John Howard.  I think it was the eye brows, combined with the rare occasion I was in a suite.  It was a wedding reception.  We went to the Queensland club.  What a posh joint that is.
Someone recently asked me to cut the hair on the back of their head.  I had never done it before.  I am sure it took longer than either of us anticipated.  I was like an artist framing up their picture.  I cut, stood back, cut, stood back.
Merril now cuts a number of people’s hair.  All she has to do is get the talk going, and I reckon she could be a barber.  She gently tilts my head this way and that, depending on what needs doing.
There was one incident that, though it was at someone’s expense, we laugh about every time it is mentioned.  We were having a get together.  Many of Merrils family was there.  Her dads hair needed cutting.  Merril took on the task.  I so admire anyone who steps up to the plate.  Merril was happily cutting away with the trimmer.  She did not realize the mechanism had jammed, and was not cutting.  She did think though, that getting through the hair was harder than normal.  Basically it meant her usual movement of going backwards and forwards was pulling the hair, rather than cutting it.  I will never forget the look on her dad’s face.  He was really gracious, but what he said I thought was classic.  He had had a recent operation and said “at least the doctor had the decency to knock me out before he did anything.”  The memory cracks us up every time.
It seems to me that most of what we do is mundane.  There are times though it is not.  This was one of those times.
If someone can write a book called “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” then I reckon Merril could write one called “Zen and the Art of Cutting Hair.”
​