New Doo
So I got a new doo. I usually don't tell my husband when I get my hair cut so I'll get an honest opinion when he walks through the door. Thankfully for me, I've had an awesome stylist, Rachel, for three years now. I'd drive to Texas if I needed to in order to keep her. Rachel is the only person in ten years that's been able to style my hair well enough that I didn't feel like my hair was ever at that in-between length as I grew it out. This is the first time I've had long hair since I've known my husband. You can see the pic in the post below, with Rick Springfield, to see how short my hairs been in the last decade. When he walked in the door today, his eyes lit up. "You got your hair cut!" "Yes..." "It looks...like a '60s or '70s cut." "So you're saying?" (What does that mean?) "It's cute. It looks like ... uh..." "Choose carefully!" I warned. I could see...