Are you sick of hearing about my hair yet?
No? ‘K good.
I finally went in to see Mindy, my hairdresser, on Friday. There are three things you must know about our relationship.

1. I firmly believe with all my heart that Mindy is awesome.
2. Mindy has been doing my hair for 15 years. Even when I moved 3000 miles away for three years, I still managed to squeeze in a cut and a color when I visited home.
3. I would never, ever consider going anywhere else. Seriously. Even if it was free. Even if *Vidal Sassoon him(her?)self held the scissors.

Mindy cut Newt’s hair first. She looked over at me while she was cutting and said, “Your hair looks great. What color is that?” I detected a hint of suspicion in her voice. Doesn’t she know the depths of my devotion? She thought I was cheating on her!
I proudly explained that my hair color is au natural, due to no ‘poo. (Remember? Once I stopped using shampoo the color changed?)
Mindy was intrigued. Then she cut my hair (dry cut, so as to not have to mess with shampoo thank-you-very-much). Her verdict? My hair is in awesome condition. It’s strong, smooth, and shiny!
No ‘poo wins! Yay for baking soda!
Here’s a beauty shot of Newt and I (with Walt, who did not get a new haircut) sporting our new ‘dos at the Oktoberfest.

Yes, I know it is not October yet. We live in Oregon. It rains here in October. And Septemberfest doesn’t sound cool.
Here are some other random characters we ran into this weekend:

I spy a waxed mustache in the wild!

What’s German for adorable?  Cüte?

And then there was that guy… there are **no words.

Speaking of no words, last week Newt painted this gnome.

It’s wearing a prison jumpsuit…

Hope your Monday is full of unexpected surprises.

*I have no idea if Vidal Sassoon is a real person, but with a name like that I certainly hope so. Can’t you just see little Vidal getting ready for the first day of school with his(her?) name stitched in his(her?) coat, holding a Scooby-Doo lunchbox and a box of new pencils?
No?
Maybe it’s just me.
**No good words. There is, however, a really bad pun. Ready for it? Here goes: I wonder if he’s Tongan! Get it? Tong-an uh… nevermind. I should have stuck with no words.

P.S.: Thanks for the lovely comments and emails from Friday’s post. I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I won’t throw them back!

Linking up with Miss Elaine-ous Monday.