Chopped!

So, two days ago I decided to chop 10 inches off my hair, because it's been five years since I've had a major haircut. In fact, the King has never even seen me with hair shorter than half way down my back. I figured in 2012, he'd like to see what I look like with short hair.

I was always nervous I'd marry a guy who thinks that he should have the final say on his wife's hair. Fortunately, the King doesn't mind at all (unless, as he poetically put it, I decided to whack it all off and go blond a la Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail, because her hair is gross and mannish! Meg Ryan--mannish?! Whatever, King. Whatever.) And the verdict is that he likes the change. He may have even whistled when he saw it. And I can't stop swishing my new short hair. Get into the car? Swish. Walking down the grocery store aisles? Swish. Reading? Swish.

Actually, that one kind of hurt.

If I keep this up, I'll probably throw my neck out permanently.

Ta-da!

What's that you say? You want to see some cute photos of Lola? Why of course, I'll oblige! I tell you, I'm nuts about this dog. Utterly nuts. The King and I have basically turned into hermits, because we hate leaving her. In fact, we had to run to the store on Wednesday for milk and eggs, because we were out. Out-out. When I asked the King why he was bringing Lola, he said, "Oh? Aren't you just running in?"

By myself? Into the store? Does this man even know who he married? I'm a pack animal, except for when I'm reading or contemplating, at which point everyone should just leave me alone.

When I said I thought we'd run into together he said, "I'll run in, and then you can sit in the car with Lola." Ultimately, we left her at home, because we also had to run to Wal-Mart, and I'd rather travel to Mordor with Gollum then go into Wal-Mart by myself. 

Anywhoo, these pictures are of her at the top of our stairs looking at me while I was reading scriptures about a week and half ago, because she wanted me to come get her. She's just barely mastered out to go up and down stairs (which at a whopping 4 lbs, is quite the task!). Doesn't she look like a teddy bear? I could squeeze her until her eyes pop.  I love being a fur-mama.