Sunday, November 12, 2006
Flip got a haircut. We celebrated with coffee and croissants at the French bakery.
We were actually celebrating that his barber didn't amputate his head with her scissors. While cutting his hair, she announced that she hated to cut hair. She repeated it again later. This was really information that didn't need to be shared.
She was also wearing a bandage around her knee, over her jeans. I asked what she had done to her leg. She said it was broken. She had broken it on a visit to Vietnam in July, but didn't realize it was broken. How, exactly, does this escape ones notice, I wonder?
She said she just thought it hurt. It didn't occur to her that pain meant anything. She continued to walk on it.
"I can run faster than anybody," she stated. Well, okay. And you hate cutting hair. This is looking better and better.
I noticed she'd left some tufts on top, reminiscent of Big Bird. But no matter. Flip is taller than most people, so the top of his head is usually his secret. No blood was drawn, and croissants heal nearly everything.
Walking home, I noticed a dog I didn't know tied up outside a boutique. Male. Definitely male.
"That is the most over-endowed dog I've ever seen," I remarked.
Flip looked at him and whistled. "Where did he get THAT?"
"Well," I said. "He IS a Cocker Spaniel."