Shoes and Haircuts

We'll be leaving for Jordan in 15 days, insha'Allah. Lots of shopping anymore. And haircuts. That's were the family went off to today, to get 5y's hair done. Wife asks this morning, "Can I take 5y to the salon?"

"No."

"Well, then can I take her to get her hair cut?"

"That's fine, yes."

Sometimes you just have to lay it down. So they're off getting 5y preened.

I bought some shoes yesterday. They're sort of a cross between sneakers and sandals. What you end up with is a lot of rocks in your shoes. I imagine such hybrid footwear will easily accumulate more stones than any other shoe on the market. I'm going to keep them. I got them a half size larger so I can wear them with wool socks in the winter time.

That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Truth is most stores don't carry my size. I would ask why, except that the answer is painfully obvious:

"Do you see that sign, sir? It says MEN's shoes."

But, al'hamdu'lillah, at a half size too large I get to wear wool socks with them. So now, not only are my shoes part sneaker and part sandal, with the addition of wool socks they become four-season foot armor.

It seems the folks just got back home.

5y: "I got a haircut. It was a fun one. There was a stage and they asked me if I wanted to watch a movie. I rode a zebra! I went to the salon!"

Hello? Treachery?

Wife: "We went to Newport Beach, Fashion Island."

Oh really? I'm limping around in oversized pebble magnets because they were blowing them out at the shoe store, and my wife and children are skipping through Fashion Island with all the other OC glitter zombies. I assure you, such behavior would not be tolerated, except that wife, quite obviously sensing the storm brewing deep within me, has just brought me a luke-warm bowl of macaroni.

I will eat and, insha'Allah, I will forgive.