Hair Cuts and Tires and Joe

The first photo on this blog should include
the cutest dog in the world, Mr the G.I. Joe.

The other day I was complaining to Claire about needing my hair trimmed. I keep it braided most of the time these days and the end of the braid looked ready for some pot scrubbing, which would be useful if I were cooking more than I have been recently. Helpful as always, with her trademark friendly smile (I wish I had been the one to trademark that smile for her, but it was someone else with a gift for writing about angelic pharmacists serving The Children in Africa, and I just think it should be pointed out every time anyone writes anything about Claire forever for the rest of her life), she suggested I get Debbie to cut it.

I had to wash my own hair

So I didn't tip Debbie, but she understood.
If I get a head massage next time, I'll tip.

“She’s got the special scissors and she even has one of those plastic robes you wrap around you so that hair doesn’t go down your neck.”

Professionalism right there.

Pinning up my hair with clothespins, as one does.

I've never looked better.

Action shot

That sold me on Debbie’s giftings because if you have the equipment, you are basically a professional. This is why I fancy myself an electrician now. I’ve got the meter tester thingy and a rubber grip screw driver so I don’t electrocute myself when I’m changing the fuse. Also, good news: the fancy new house I live in has a really good system that does not need me to mess around with any of the fuses. It was invented by Urbain who is a genius and it involves lightbulbs and giant plugs that I have to use my whole body to move, but still—it is efficient.

Professional electrician

As a visual aid, to help you with picturing the characters in this story,
here is Urbain debating whether or not to try my pumpkin pie.

Debbie with the tools of her trade.

Anyway, Debbie graciously agreed. Her friendly smile hasn’t yet been trademarked, but she is a midwife so she helps to bring The Children into Life. She’s a good friend. You know how I know? She refused to follow the youtube video I showed her that would help her cut my hair into shapes. And she gave me a great haircut. And how do I know that it is a great haircut? Nobody has noticed that I got it cut, which is the worst part about getting a hair cut. Everyone wants to comment on your life choices. But now, without any unnecessary fuss or expense, the ends of my hair are nice and smooth again. The end of my braid could be used to paint a portrait of a young girl sitting in a field of wildflowers, but it would be less effective on pots and pans.

I painted this with my hair. Or I ssearched "girl in a field of wildflowers"
and this is the first image I found. The point is that I could have painted this with my hair.

Is this the most eventful thing in my life since I last posted? Of course not. But the other stories are still classified. They’ll appear in my memoirs as long as they don’t endanger the lives of anyone still active in the field.

And now the big reveal (scroll down to see my new look):

Scroll more!

Here you go:

I'm not that innocent.
Or Debbie isn't...

Or maybe I still look like this.
Oh well...next time...

In other news, I started to change a flat tire this morning at my house, and my guard, in the tradition of gentlemen everywhere, jumped in and fixed it for me. And I, in the tradition of women who want to prove that they can do anything the men can, kept getting in his way and grabbing stuff to show that I actually could have done it myself. Then I went and got him a large glass of ice water (a big deal here because I used all my ice) since society has conditioned me to provide refreshment for men who do manual labor for me. Also, I have been thinking: you know how on TV and sometimes in real life girls who are super pretty don't need to learn how to change tires and stuff because some lovesick Romeo will jump in and help them out? It turns out, you don't have to be super pretty. Most men around here can't stand to see a woman messing around with manual labor involving cars or motorcycles (hauling water or sweating away in the fields is fine though). They'll jump right in if you start trying to set up a jack.

I did have to use this to unscrew the fancy
useless hub cap covers.

Joe even jumped in to help, he's such a gentleman




And now more photos of Joe:

Here is Emmanuel taking a photo of Joe on the bed in our meeting room
where Herve likes to take naps sometimes. I told Emmanuel to
post it on Facebook and tag Herve because he does not approve of dogs on the furniture,
but Emmanuel and I both think Joe is too cute to have to sleep on the floor.

Here is a photo of Joe looking so disappointed
in me for offering him a carrot. I gave him an Oreo
after this so he perked up. It's true that when two living beings
cohabitate, they take on each other's prominent traits,
including eating habits.

Look how happy he is when he isn't being offered a carrot!