It has finally arrived.
The day I have been anticipating for months.
Waiting for.
Wishing for.
Dreaming of.
It is. . . .
THE LAST DAY OF CLASSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I made it.
There were times when I wasn't sure if I would.
If the madness and insanity of my students, carried like malaria in mosquitoes would overcome me.
Crashed computers, disfunctional alarm clocks, infectious diseases, candy craving junkies, student presentations, first year writing assignments, advanced qual students psychosis, book editing, book publishers, second year mania, identity crises, relationship regret, headaches, heartaches. . .
I have survived them all.
Again.
But who knows for how much longer?
At 10.20 am, I will not teach in a classroom until January.
Give exams?
Yes, one.
Grade papers?
Yes. And I can't count that high.
But let me, please, revel in the euphoria that accompanies the last day of classes.
Quickly followed by the heart stopping panic that grades have to be before Christmas.
Correction: should be in before Christmas.
Bird's Nest and Bump-It are finally getting a haircut.
In spite of all these degrees, I cannot understand, fathom, reason, rationalize Keith and Stephen's reluctance to get hair cuts.
Especially when they so desperately need them.
Keith's hair literally looks like a bird's nest.
Baby birds, bird's eggs, twigs, leaves, bits of Tikka's hair inhabit Keith's hair.
He keeps snacks in there, too.
Granola bars, cookies, cheese, veggie sticks, juice boxes. . .
His hair is a veritable cornicopia of bite sized delights.
I blame his friends, completely, for his not wanting to rid his head of its nest.
They tell him it looks good.
They like it.
They LIE!
People actually ask if they can touch it.
Now, I may have, on occassion, found myself running my fingers through his tangle of curly hair, as it can be somewhat soothing.
But, he rarely allows me to do this, and I risk my life every time I do.
Who knows what small woodland creature I may be disturbing?
Keith's hair does not grow down, it grows out.
A caucasian afro of gigantic proportions.
Sometimes, for fun, I'll have him pick it out, just to see how big it can get.
I usually cry "uncle" when I am being forced out of the room by his hair.
I can ask, beg, plead, threaten, cry, whine to no avail.
Offers to drive him to Norma, the Hair Goddess, at Klub Soda (454-7632) and PAY for his grooming fall on deaf ears.
Poor Norma.
Once, when he allowed his hair to reach gargantuan proportions, I dragged him downtown for a hair cut. She got him into the chair, wrapped him up in the cape, and then said, "I don't even know where to start!"
I called yesterday and made an appointment.
He complained when I informed him of said appointment.
And I made him call back and reschedule.
Tomorrow.
12.30.
When I spoke with Norma later, I warned her what was coming.
She replied, "Oh, I know. He walked by yesterday and I said, "OH MY GAWD!"
Sharpen yer clippers.
Get your your brooms.
Call Animal Control.
Keith is getting his hair cut.
Because I am all about efficiency, at least in some aspects of my life, I arranged for Bump-It to follow Keith to the clippers.
Stephen.
Again, always an issue, except maybe in the summer because of the heat.
But any other time, mention getting a hair cut to Stephen and he says, "I know. I'll get to it later."
Meaning, shut up and mind your own business. It's my hair and I'll get it caught when I am damn well ready!"
Unlike Keith, Stephen doesn't grow the world's only on-head bird's nest.
Stephen has lovely, thick salt and pepper hair.
It grows down not out.
And it grows quickly.
Were it not for the Bump-It, Stephen's hair could grow to his knuckles for all I cared.
However, for some bizarre reason, a misplaced cow's lick perhaps, when Stephen's hair gets long he develops, on the left side of the top of his head, a Bump-It.
Women pay money to purchase the plastic accoutrement that creates small mountains on the tops of their heads.
Stephen's occurs naturally.
And the longer it is allowed to grow, the bigger the bump it gets.
Meaning, I called Norma, again yesterday, and asked if she had an appointment time available for Stephen.
Preferably close to Keith.
She did.
Bird's Nest and Bump-It will morph back into Keith and Stephen after a mere 30 minutes each with Norma.
And you want to tell me she isn't a goddess????????
Stephen learned his lesson about hair cuts a long time ago.
He asked me to cut his hair.
All I had were the cat clippers, used to remove knots from my longer haired cats.
I put him in the middle of the kitchen.
On a chair.
And fired up the clippers.
His first mistake was asking me.
His second was thinking I knew what I was doing.
I didn't.
Which lead to his third mistake.
Not running out of the house upon hearing these words from the mouth of the then ten year old Emily,
"I can fix that!"
A 10 year old with cat clippers, and he thought he'd come out looking like George Clooney?????
At work the next day, people kept stopping to ask if he was alright.
They thought he'd had chemotherapy.
And then, suddenly, I had all these people at my door looking for hair cuts.
Ha. Ha.
He should be happy all we cut off was his hair.
Title Lyric: Modern Haircut by Minus
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