for a few days. And I was getting pretty shaggy from living in Bremerton. I need a hair cut. In fact, I needed all of them cut.
So I asked Deb-- who used to be a professional hair stylist-- if she whould cut my hair. But she'd hurt her arm and couldn't lift the shears. She claims it wasn't from riding that motorcycle in the Cage of Death at the circus all those years, that she did it clearing brush at her place out in the country. But you never know with her.
"That's OK, Dad," said Daniel. "I'll give you a haircut."
You'd think I would know better.
But you would be wrong.
So now I have only slightly more hair than a trout.
Photographic evidence is enclosed.
Maybe I could go as a Ping-Pong ball for Hallowe'en. What do you think?
So what were you guys? Here are my guesses:
- Ryan: A Barrel of Toxic Waste
- Kelly: A Brussel Sprout
Was I right? Please let me know. And be sure to send photos. 
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