…from a man named Jerry who shares my love for photography (I always email him these photos) and even holds the pose when handing my kids a sucker because he knows that’s a shot worth catching, loves to talk about Cuba, and has a little chihuahua named Princess that will bite you if you go near her.
I didn’t want to do it, I really didn’t. But it was getting too straggly and too difficult to care for. So we trimmed it and have reset the cycle to the beginning… trim – grow out – become a rat nest – trim. It will be long again, in time.
It all started with a dreadlock; a real, totally legit dread. It needed to be cut out. And it was so big it would have left an obvious bald spot. Look at me trying desperately to justify my (our) impulsive actions. In just a few minutes, we erased any chance of him being Rod Stewart or Joe Dirt for Halloween. And now I’m left having to come up with an actual costume. Ho hum. In any event, he’s cuter (in my mind, anyway) and I can’t get enough of rubbing my hand across his freshly cut hair.