in lieu of talking about my current mental stew, the subject of hair comes to mind. my hair, in the spring, reminds me of a cat. my scalp gets dry, my hair oily no matter how much i wash it, and it seems to fall out in chunks. i'm tired of fishing it out of combs, off shirts, the shower drain, and off the counter or out of bowls when i cook. ugh. i swear i should wear a hair net, and could weave a nice white blanket (for the cat a least) from all the grey/white hairs i've found. it feels a bit like I'm shedding my winter coat, and i sure would enjoy curling up on a sunny windowsill and just staring at the birds for awhile.
i gave D a haircut a couple days ago, and he hurriedly ran around collecting chunks of it from the floor before I vacuumed, and put it in a jar. why he's saving it i haven't asked, and am not sure i want to. perhaps because his father collects every bit of cat hair he combs out of dominic and puts it in a jar? likely connection. i've asked why on that one too, and have no satisfactory answer.
fynn is the only haircut-less one in the house, and though D got his first cut just before his second birthday, and fynn is practically eating his bangs, i'm not ready to chop his yet. i haven't gotten enough pics in his flickr hair group yet. or something.