Ron got a reprieve today, courtesy of the Split Ends Fairy.

We have been arguing for days about whether I should donate 10 inches of my hair to Locks of Love, which is a nonprofit group that makes wigs for little kids who lost their hair because of chemo treatments or whatever.

It’s just hair. It will grow back. But Ron yelps like a kicked puppy every time I mention the word “haircut.” (This seems to be a common sentiment among most of the men I know. I don’t get it, but I don’t have a Y chromosome, either.)

Anyway, this afternoon, over his vociferous protests, we went to Ulta, where a stylist took one look at me and decreed the bottom three or four inches of my hair too damaged to use.

I came home and made Ron trim it. Now I just have to Aussie it into submission while I wait for the rest of the damage to grow out.

I’m not really into the whole high-maintenance-hair thing, but if it will help a little kid somewhere, I guess I can spend three extra minutes a day conditioning this mess.

In retrospect, a box of henna probably would have fixed the whole problem. Maybe I should get some on my next Wild Oats run. Nothing mends split ends like henna. And I make a cute redhead. Plus it’ll make my hair grow faster, because Murphy’s First Law of Dye Jobs states that dyed hair will grow at a rate directly proportional to the inconvenience created by doing one’s roots. This is why my hair grows an inch a month with a dye job, and faster than that with henna, which is a monumental pain in the butt to apply.


P.S.: This morning during church, I noticed that the trees right outside the windows were completely covered with dark red buds. I hope the cold doesn’t ruin them. It’s supposed to get down into the low 20s tonight. I don’t know what kind of trees they are, but you can see them in the photo on this page.