Tag: grooming

  • ODDS and ENDS: Dog Haircut, Covid Conscious, and Just Doing What I’m Doing

    (They tried to kill him with a forklift…)

    My dog needs a haircut. Some might call that grooming, but I find that word problematic; grooming. She gets a cut every three months, so being that we just crossed into April, we’re right on schedule. Yet, the dog is hairier and shaggier than she has ever been. And she stinks. The wife does bathe the dog regularly, but the hair is so long, it just traps in the smell. I guess what I am really saying is that the dog is a mess. And she knows it. She looks at us, at least I assume as the hair covers her eyes, in a most pitiful fashion, saying, “Please sir and madam, may I have a haircut?” Again, that’s an assumption.

    The wife has Covid. Not very server, more like a mild flu. I’m taking care of her, and making sure she’s resting and being taken care of. Sadly, I didn’t get my Covid vaccine this year, so I have set myself up for a possible infection. If I’m still healthy by Sunday, then I know for sure that I am in the clear. As such, I’m being very cautious and conscious of my contact with other people. Mainly, this is my excuse for not going to the gym this whole week. You gotta be safe, and I like having an extra hour to drink coffee on the couch while watching DREW.

    So… the world might be going to hell or ending soon; who can tell these days. For that reason, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing. I’m not giving up, and I will still see you at the March.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Haircuts, Dog Haircut, and Hats

    (An’ I don’t really care if you think I’m strange…)

    As a balding man, haircuts are a very funny thing. What hair I do have still grows and needs to be cut periodically. Yet, with a significant smaller amount of hair on my head, having to pay full price for a haircut does make me feel like I am being taking advantage of. Shouldn’t there be a bald man’s discount?

    My dog also has to get periodic haircuts, but that’s called grooming, but in the good way. She gets her trim every three months, and when we enter into the final weeks before her cut, she is a hairy mess. She’s a little Chewbacca, if I were to describe accurately.

    I am a fan of hats, and that was before I started balding. When I was doing costuming in my college theatre department, I would try to come up with any excuse to put a hat on a character. In my real life, I’m a baseball cap and beanie guy. But what I would love to be is a fedora guy. And not one of those short brimmed hipster fedoras; no, I’m talking a classic wide brim 1930’s or 40’s fedora. But I think for the look to work, you have to be in a suit. Fedoras are formal, while a ball cap denotes a casual or sporty aesthetic. So, I need to wear more suits is what I’m saying.

  • Holiday Beard

    It’s been awhile since I grew the Holiday Beard. It used to be something that I would do annually. Start growing it out during the week of Thanksgiving, shave it down to a moustache for New Year’s Eve, then get rid of all facial hair after the Super Bowl. (This way, I would look normal again for Valentine’s Day, which makes the wife happy.) There was one year for New Year’s, I shaved down to a handlebar and sideburns; don’t care what anyone said, I looked great!

    I decided that I wanted to grow the beard this year… and it’s not going well. Not sure what has changed about me, but this thing is itchy as hell. Like driving me up the wall, making me crazy. I find myself at night unable to sleep for how itchy my cheeks are. I can see how red and irritated my skin is when I look in a mirror. I mean, I know every time I grow a beard, there is a period of itchy face, but this time around, it is particularly annoying. I’ve tried lotions and conditioners, but nothing seems to help.

    Now, I won’t give up on the beard, as I am stubborn in that way. It’s only been 23 days since I stated this process, and I still have about 60 days or so to go. And I really do want the handlebar moustache and sideburns back in my life, in a very desperate way. Sure, this is a grab at holding on to my youth, as I might have more hair on my face than my head. Or, you could say, it’s fun to just do something silly.

  • ODDS and ENDS: The Dog Groomer, Fart in French, and Ice Cream

    (We’re all excited, but we don’t know why…)

    I love my dog. I always thought of myself as a cat person, but once we got the dog… well, I’m still a cat guy, but I do want to have a dog from here on out. And loving my dog, means loving all of her, including the bad stuff that she does. Which is very little, I might add. What the dog does that drives us nuts, and we haven’t been able to get her to stop, is that the dog goes ape-shit anytime she sees another dog. Like growling, and barking, and trying to break free from the leash so she can go and kill that other dog. It can make taking her for a walk a very challenging endeavor. Anyway, so when we take the dog to the groomers, the dog does her normal stuff when she sees the other dogs getting groomed, she goes bananas. So, we leave her, and when we come back to the groomers, they tell us how great of a dog she was; so kind, nice, and friendly. And we’ll ask if our dog was this nice version, even when other dogs were around, and the groomers tells us yes; that our dog was even friendly to the other dogs. This has happened enough times over the past five years, that I have come down to one of two conclusions; the groomers are telling us lies because no one wants to hear that their dog is an asshole, or our dog puts on this tough act in front of other dogs only when we’re around.

    My mother was a very proper woman. You had to really make her mad to swear, and she did embarrass easy. Yet, she raised three boys, and there was a lot of farting. BUT, my mother never said the word fart. No, that would be most improper. As she was raised in a French-American home, she did bring one, and only one, French term into our lives; péter. (That’s French for fart.) For the first several years of my life, I thought everyone also used the word péter. When I got to school, I learned quickly that no one used this word. Yet, the tern stuck with me, and in honor of my French heritage, I have made sure that my daughter knows that péter means fart in French.

    And, I want ice cream for dinner.