Greetings,
Well, it was bound to happen. My hair, going well below my nose, needed to be hacked. In a 2 hour session involving hedging shears, a weed whacker, and my shag carpet hair, Kitty successfully tamed the beast.
So, my barber of 23 years (been going to this guy since I was 2) decided to up and retire without getting my permission, I let my hair grow until I was able to determine a course of action. It became difficult to read books as I was constantly brushing my hair out of the way. At the paintball field, I could always be found wearing a hat just to keep my hair under control.
So, while bombing around on the John Deere Gator with my hair whipping everywhere is no longer an option, it is nice to be able to see again.
Here's the aftermath, click for a larger version:
Special thanks to Kitty for dealing with my whining about Fred the Barber.
