The Barber of Hogwarts

Arg! I had a little list of errands I wanted to run today, which I was going to end with a swim at the beach, which I've been dying for. I dream about floating in water and relieving pressure on my occasionally aching sacroiliac. So, I pop on my bike, run the errands, go to the beach, and the next thing I know, I'm surrounded by running and screaming children and soccer moms, and a wind and sand storm kind of like the one in The Mummy. So, back on my bike, pedal furiously home through the rain, and, needless to say, no swim.

Yesterday a certain husband asked me if I would cut his hair, and oddly full of confidence, I agreed. I always thought that cutting hair looked insanely easy and I would be a natural pro. M. looks ok because he's very handsome, but his hair IS really, really short now. My dear ol' Dad (as he likes to call himself) was a barber for the army. I think I inherited some of those genes.

We're going to the Harry Potter opening on Wed. - really excited. Working on some costumes. Suggested to M. that he go as Crabbe or Goyle (which didn't go over as I'd hoped). I might go as Hermionie myself.