Ruby Tuesday time again. To get my shots for this week I had to enter into that last bastion of
testosterone. That shop with the revolving striped pole outside where real men, rugged men, working men go in and come out with their ears lowered, a clean shave and smelling of Bay Rum. One of those shops where fathers take their sons until they are old enough to walk in alone. The old fashioned barber shop.
The Old Salt and I were married two years ago and when he moved to my hometown the search for a barber began. At that time my hubby was getting a haircut every two weeks and still kept the same cut he had during his entire navy career. Even though I asked him to let it grow out a little, he could not seem to change that life-long habit. Every two weeks he would go off to visit a new barber hoping to find one that "felt right".
Each time he would return and report that the chair was not right, the barber was a little heavy handed, he did not shave his neck just right or a big no-no... plastic aprons. Finding a shop that was "just right" seemed like a never-ending quest. After he had just about exhausted his list of available shops I suggested he let me cut his hair. You would have thought I had asked him to dye his hair blue. I tried to convince him that I was experienced. After all, my first husband had only been in a barber shop half a dozen times during the thirty-seven years we were married. After he returned from the last shop in town without finding his new barber he finally relented. I will admit that I was scared to death that first hair cut. I had been a widow for awhile before we met and was certainly out of practice, and my fear of making a terrible mistake kept me from doing my best job.
Awhile later we made a trip to the county seat to transact some business at the court house. I knew there was a very old barber shop on the square that had not seen a face lift in fifty years, so I suggested the Old Salt check it out. Well, he came out beaming. I knew he had found his new home.
I have not given him a haircut since. I have also managed to get him to make the trip to the barber once instead of twice a month. When you look at these photos of my hubby in the barber chair, that I took last week, you will probably think he is getting ready to leave. But, in fact, that short haircut is what he went in with. I will not show you the final result, lets just say that I like the before shots best. After reading this, he said I should be happy that he has some hair left to get cut.
Have a great week everyone and for more exciting red shots visit Ruby Tuesday at
WORK OF THE POET http://workofthepoet.blogspot.com