"Are You Yarnhog?"

I had a bizarre "world's collide" sort of experience today. I was getting my hair cut and talking to the stylist about knitting. (She asked. We go to the same chiropractor, and she had seen me working on my mom's Christmas sweater last year. I did not accost a perfectly innocent woman, doing her job, and try to convert her to the wonderful world of yarn. I swear.)

Anyway, I had just gotten to the part about Icarus (she asked!), when the woman in the chair next to me exclaimed, "Are you Yarnhog?!" Shocked, I turned to look at her, and stammered something like, "Well, yes!" The stylists thought we had both gone crazy, I'm sure. We did try to explain, but you know how that goes. It turns out, the woman in the next chair was the blogless Patrice, who has commented here before, and probably on many of your blogs as well. She lives only a few miles from me, and obviously, we go to the same hair salon!

I took it as a good omen for what followed. Look in my sidebar at that picture of me at age 12. Can't see it too well? Here:



Now this is me at...well, let's just say 10 days ago.

Look specifically at the hair. Notice how little difference there is in the style? Okay, the not-style? That is because I have had my hair in pretty much some variation of long and straight (straight-ish--it tends to frizz) for my entire life--except for that Annie Lennox crew-cut incident in high school, and the less said about that, the better. Today, I did this:


Do you know how hard it is to take a decent picture of your own head? Oh, yeah. You're bloggers. Of course you do. The picture above was taken in the mirror. I took this one with the timer, and I would probably look more like this to you, if you saw me in person:

I did not mention to my husband, who loves long hair and has never seen me with anything else, that I was planning to get it cut. I did give him a warning phone call before I came home. He has no history of heart trouble, but you never know. When I walked in, he took one look, grinned like a boy with his first air rifle, and exclaimed, "Wow, you're a total hottie! You should have done that a long time ago!" He had to run off to meet a client before I could thank him properly, but I think he deserves extra husband points for that response.

The Icarus countdown: 31 days, 31 rows. I was shampooing carpets. Cut me some slack. I did get two more skeins of two-ply spun. Does that count?