I'm not loving the hair. Either I do something I might regret later or I shoot someone.

I’m not loving the hair. Either I do something I might regret later or I shoot someone.

A dizzy blonde (that’s me, for those of you new to these digs) goes to get her hair cut.

She’s into this whole new-life-new-beginnings-change-of-pace-what-the-heck-no-one-knows-me vibe.

It’s either unpacking tedium/delirium, Scrappy-love-withdrawal, the Pacific NW damp air creating mold in her already cockamamie brain, or some combination of the aforementioned. But she’s booting Old Lorna out and designing New Lorna.

Holy Bad Idea, Bat Man!

Holy Bad Idea, Bat Man!

Skinny Young Stylist (SYS) asks, “So what did you have in mind?”

Assuming SYS is referring to her hair, New Lorna replies, “Something short. Stylish yet sassy. And short. Don’t be afraid to make it short.”

SYS spent the next 45 minutes slicing and dicing.

Dizzy Blonde came out with very short, sassy and not so stylish blonde boyish hair cut.

Poofing it up with “product” before Phil came home didn’t work.

New Lorna looked like a boy with too much “product” in his hair trying to impress the girls.

Actually, his hair is a bit long on the top compared to mine.

Actually, his hair is a bit long on the top compared to mine.

Phil took a moment, trying to formulate the right response.

He said, “You look like Peter Pan.”

He should have taken more time.

“It’s called a pixie cut. It’s very stylish.”

“Great. It looks nice.” Back-peddling.

“I was going for the Charlize Theron look.”

“Who? Charlie Brown? Wasn’t his hair longer?”

Cleansing breathing while Googling pictures of Charlize Theron.

Smug victory smiling while shoving smart phone photo of hottie Charlize’s pixie hair cut in Phil’s face.

“Oh. Nice.” Looking at Charlize, looking at me, looking at Charlize. Not seeing the similarities.

“Well I like it.” I announce in my defensive authoritative voice.

“Good. That’s what’s most important. But I bet a lot of women around here will like it, too.” Phil is so diplomatic.

“What do you mean?” Dizzy Blonde is so clueless.

“Let’s just say I want to be very close to you when we go out in public so people know that you like men.”

Does Charlize have to deal with this kind of thing?

Dizzy Blonde calls SYS and asks if she can return for a few “adjustments” to her haircut.

As if this day wasn’t eventful enough…

On the same day, the same Dizzy Blonde (still me, People) goes to the local library to pick up books on local hiking trails. I’m preparing for upcoming family visits and the end of the rainy season. You could accuse me of hyperadvanuary planning. I tend to plan ahead.

Innocent enough, right?

You’d think.

On the way out of the library, Dizzy Blonde spies a free publication by the University of Washington.

She thinks it’s an annual guide to all things Portland: concerts, museums, parks, events, restaurants, transportation, you name it.

She picks one up, smiling at her lucky find.

When she gets home, she realizes that her “All Things Portland” free publication, which she thought was entitled “The Portlander,” was really “The “Potlander.” Word Play. It gets me every time.

The only articles in it were about marijuana and the best places to get nachos in Portland.

Dizzy Blonde begins to ponder (always an iffy thing).

What a difference an “r” makes.

Horse would be Hose.

Bird would be Bid.

Arm would be Am.

Corn would be Con.

Shirt would be…um…uh…never mind.

Dizzy Blond recycled “The Potlander.”

Even though pot is legal in Washington, it’s probably not one of the touristy things my 83-year-old mom and my sister and brother-in-law will want to do when they visit this summer.

But, you never know…