Haircuts and Fat Chins

Someone at my work (identity will remain a mystery) bought up an interesting point recently.  He came back to the office after a trip to Cost Cutters and said the entire time, all he could think about was how fat his chin looked.

How sad.  When you go get a haircut, you should be able to enjoy the feel of the hairdresser washing your hair, massaging your scalp, combing your hair out and the gentle tickle of her running your hair through her fingers as she lines up her next length of hair to trim. 

But is my coworker the only one who feels that way?  Unfortunately, no.   When most people get their hair cut, they’re forced to stare at the mirror for approximately 15 minutes, during which time you’ve got your hair plastered to your scalp.  Instead of enjoying the feeling, though, and relaxing, you’re sitting there self consciously watching yourself talk and laugh. (Does my mouth really move like that?  All the time?   Cripes, when I smile, I look like I don't have eyes!  Oh My God, how many chins do I have?  That's it, I’m never smiling again.)  Also, you’re watching the underarm jiggle of the Cost Cutter hairstylist.  But the whole time you’re staring into the mirror, you’re a little uncomfortable.  And mentally cutting down your calories for the next month to approximately 1000 a day.  Mmmm….yes, that IS relaxing. 

It wasn't always that way, though.  It's a learned behavior.  Think of it this way.  When a baby looks into the mirror, the baby doesn’t sit there and think, man, kid, you gotta lay off the strained bananas, YOU are getting CHUNKY.  How many bottles are you up to a day, anyway?

No.  The baby points at the mirror and says, look at the PRETTY BABY.   Complete acceptance there, not name calling.

My oldest just got his hair cut.  He also is growing what we normal people would call sideburns but what his homies would call “chin straps.”  Those “chin straps” were trimmed as well, and now he looks like a pretty clean cut dude.

My husband gets haircuts on a regular basis.  I don’t think his hair has ever been over ½” since I’ve known him.  I asked him jokingly once if he would like to grow his hair out like a hippie, and he told me that his hair doesn’t grow DOWN, it grows two ways...CURLY and UP.  Always.  Just higher, and higher, and higher.  So he would NEVER look like a hippie but more like the Bride of Frankenstein.  Or Marge Simpson.

Oh, Homie.

What's up with that NICKNAME???

Poopwa Foley.

I imagine that some of you have wondered, where in the hell did that nickname come from?  And if you didn't wonder, you should have.

Listen up.  “Poopwa” is derived from the word “poopwahhhrg”, which is Irish for “cooking class”, and as we all know, “Foley” is derived from the word “der foler”, which is German for “dog paws.”

Just kidding.  My DAD made it up.  Isn't it great?  (phony smile)

My father, Mr-I-think-I’m-So-Funny, has been calling me Poopwa Foley since I was a tiny little girl.  That, and “Monk”, but Poopwa was the one that really stuck to me like, well, you know, poopwa.

Growing up, I was mortified and red-faced if he ever called me that in front of people.  The more embarrassed I got, the harder he wheezed with laughter

Flash forward a few decades.  I have now actually developed a sense of humor (and a thicker skin, to be sure) and find those nonsense words hysterical instead of embarrassing.  

However, using this IN PUBLIC as a writer’s name, if you will, was a leap of faith for me.  I kind of grew into it over the years and now, claim it.

Who else would want this name?  Who else would stand with pride as the name Poopwa Foley was called?  Who has the steel cajones?

A writer calling herself Poopwa Foley, that's who.

There can be only Poopwa Foley...and it's me.

Thanks, Dad!

Raise the Flag...it's Ruby!

It's sporty, it's red, it's really, really fast, it's brand new, and...

it's a stick shift.

Please welcome the newest member of the "Cacciakins" family.  Her name is Ruby.

After months of talking about it, weeks of research, and about .001 second's worth of deciding, we settled on a Victory Red 2012 Chevy Cruze.

It has all the bells and whistles you could imagine...Bluetooth, Onstar, XM radio, ten thousand airbags (I think) ,a popcorn maker, lots of leg room and barely any miles.

Ok, I was kidding about the popcorn maker.  (But wouldn't that be cool??) 

I had forgotten how much I enjoy the sheer total CAR INVOLVEMENT of driving a stick shift.  I haven't made one hands-on phone call or typed one text message. (not like I did before, mind you, or did I?)  I haven't applied any mascara or toted my morning coffee along, and believe me when I say I drink enough coffee that I should wear a sombrero and walk a donkey.

We kept our old car, known affectionally as the Green Goblin, because, well,  it's a 94 Honda Accord, and the trade in value was approximately 27 cents.  And that was the HIGHEST offer from the dealerships.

I have made several completely unnecessary drives in that car, including a) taking my son to Family Video to return movies, when normally he would be told to do it his own damn self and b) driving to Hilander for garbage bags which we didn't really need.  Not only that, it's a 10 minute round trip ON A BIKE, and that includes time spent chatting in the aisles.

Ah, well.

Currently I'm the primary driver, although I have let my husband drive it twice, park it once, move it several times, and of course, touch it.  (carefully.  with gloved hands.)    With a round trip for me to work of approximately 16 miles per day, we don't expect the mileage to add up very quickly, and of course our trips out of town will be in that car.

A recent drive to Wisconsin revealed some very interesting things to us, including the fact that a) we get 50, yes, really 50 miles per gallon on the highway and b) that cruise control is a really, really, cool thing and c) that we enjoy the XM radio a lot and d) that we made the ONstar people give us directions for a place we have been to a lot, then snickered the entire way when the woman's voice would say "bear left" and we didn't actually see a bear ON the left.

Oh, yeah, and that Wisconsin cops really are observant of new, shiny, red, fast cars.

Have a very safe Labor Day, everyone!!