Steve's First Haircut

Yesterday was brutal.  We didn't leave the house until 5:00pm because Steve was stuck on the phone with tech support trying to fix a problem with his computer.  It didn't get fixed.  The good news is that we finally got Utah area codes for our new phones, and then we drove up to Park City where there happened to be a big art festival and we bought a new sugar bowl and milk jug to replace the one Steve dropped on the kitchen tile.  We also ate a surprisingly tasty meal at "The Purple Sage" before heading home.

Anyway, Steve's First Haircut.

It happened when we were in Salt Lake City for just a couple of days before leaving for our Hawaiian honeymoon.  We drove south on the highway to Fashion Place mall where we discovered the goodness that is Dillards and stocked up on some new bathing suits.  Once done there, we used our trusty GPS to locate a few barbers in the area.  Steve called up one who said her cuts were only $12 or something cheap, so off we went.

Even from the outside I was a little bit unsure.  It was a small square building in what looked like a rather run down part of town.  The sign and everything else about it looked old.  Now, sometimes that's attractive for a barber, but not really this time.  We entered, and the barber, who was busy with another customer, told us it would just be a minute.  We took a seat in the waiting area.  There were all kinds of man magazines for our perusal, but watching her craftily cut her customer's hair with a razor.  I guess buzz is the more accurate word for what she was doing, but she did it slowly, bit by bit.

They chatted about various topics of interest, like how a glock is a really great weapon, and how other guns compare to that.  Why this or that bullet or extension piece (I really have no idea...) are good or bad.  And then about how children are annoyances when it comes to the gun collection.  I mean, you have to lock your guns up!?

They then switched to a more Canadian-friendly topic: dogs.  It was friendly enough until the guy started talking about the dachshund he and his wife bought who wasn't particularly in control of her bladder.  He recounted how he got so fed up one day that he kicked her across the room.  When Steve tells this story he says that at this point I had tears in my eyes and looked like I wanted to flee right then and there.  I don't remember the tears.

Soon enough Steve's turn came, and after making a joke about how he wanted the complete opposite of the cut she gave the other guy, they went on to have a very pleasant chat about that was not at all about guns or animal abuse.  And he got a pretty nice haircut, too.