It started by me asking the husband at the dinner table last night, “What’s the longest that your hair has ever grown?” “About halfway down my back,” he answered. “Me, too.” I said. “I could reach behind at my waist and touch it with my fingertips.” “Me, too.” “Have you ever gone bald?” I asked. “No,” the husband replied. “Me, neither.” “I’ ve thought about it.” “Me, too.” The question popped out of my mouth, “Wanna do it?” “Do you?” “How long do you think our hair can grow in one year?” “Dunno.” Throughout last night and this morning, we asked each other, “Wanna do it?” "Shall we?" "What do you think?" "No haircuts for a year?" When we went out this morning to shop for groceries, that’s all we planned to do. Really. Then we saw the hair salon next to the market. And, yeah, we did it. The Shorn Husband. . . and The Shorn Wife

I've been thinking, wanting, and needing (yes, needing) to begin a new blog for several months, since the hubby and I finished our last writing project. I have been lagging in some tasks, such as updating my web site, because I was awaiting the start of this here blog. What has kept me from beginning is my vacillation about choosing the right title and the right look. That can also be another way of saying I’m simply mentally tuckered out from words. But, that’s if I was being honest...to myself. After all, the title did pop out of my cobwebby mind a couple months ago while gathering chestnuts. Really, I was. Gathering chestnuts that is, but that will be a tale for another day. So, here I am, a 56-year-old woman. There's nothing like blogging about this and that and about here and there to find my voice and rhythm. Again. Thanks for visiting. Please stop by often.