Brenda’s Beaver and My Mullet

I don’t know about you but during a quarantine my scissors become Disney Animated, talking to me.

It’s no wonder the classic children’s book, Brenda’s Beaver Needs a Barber is making its rounds on social media. Everyone needs a haircut.

Have you, like me, been watching the news not for updates on the COVID counts and the impending doom of our world but for seeing whose hair is a disaster? I’m talking to you, Savanah Guthrie.

Knowing that judgey people like me exist in this world, I’ve decided we should not look like Tom Hanks in Cast Away when we come out of our Hidey holes someday.

Enter The Husband. One would think after I convinced him in the 90’s that he should let me put some temporary hair dye on his hair, he would’ve learned his lesson. The hair dye was not only permanent it was, how do they say it? So black it was blue? He was asked by a colleague if he’d discovered the fountain of youth.

He’s a kind man because he didn’t beat me then. And a trusting man because here we go again.

I have been aching to cut his hair for 25 years. Now was my chance. Daily I chimed, “Wow. What’s gonna happen to you in six weeks?” “You look like Bernie Sanders.” “Holy momma, that’s some CRA-ZEE hair.” I finally got to him. The first time I cut gently and not much. One could say I was “grooming” him for the bigger kill. He liked it so much he asked me to do it again. The third time he emerged looking a bit too Mike Pencey. But still cute. Ain’t he a doll?

Coming off of my final professional haircut in early March which just so happened to be the worst fucking haircut of my life, I could only make my own hair better. With my scissors egging me on, I’ve been nipping at it day and night (‘cause I don’t have Netflix). I have gone from Wayne’s World to a more mild but definite Mullet. And I like it. My sister Rebekah said, “Yes. Yes. A mullet makes perfect sense when wearing a face mask.” I’m owning it.

Now if I could just quiet down that talking wall in the bathroom I’ve been wanting to remove.


  1. Mike Pencey? That’s precious. I think you did OK on the hubs. Don’t give in to the mullet though, they’re a disaster to grow out. Even now, when hair grows an inch a week. My solution is pulling it all into a ponytail elastic and making a lazy bun. The finished product looks something like Pebbles from the Flintstones. Screw the judgy people at the grocery. 🙂

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    1. Yes a long time ago I discovered the art of adding Y to make any word an adjective. Too late. I’ve got the mullet. It’s good I wear a hat most of the time.

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  2. Your husband really is a kind person. Mine won’t let me near him with a pair of scissors. Between you and me, I think he is secretly dreaming of his future man-bun. To which I will say “That’s Number 43!” (on the Grounds for Divorce” list.) And yes, the list exists. Number 42 was the treadle hammer.

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    1. You’re going to need couple’s therapy for that treadle hammer. I believe your husband is in good company. Everyone in our neighborhood is of about the era when Vietnam was happening and though they had grown up haircuts to now, they are all removing caps to compare their mangy manes and hoping beyond hope thy we stay in quarantine till September. They are ALL hoping for that man bun. Happily my husband was cursed/blessed with coarse curly hair and he just couldn’t pull it off. Don’t even get me started on the time he tried to wear feathered bangs.

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  3. Well, the problem with your mullet, is not that it wasn’t a hood mullet. It was an old mullet. Mine was fresh. The mullet could not be left unattended anymore than Brenda’s Beaver. What a royal pain that hairdo was to grow out. Mine being curly was the worst.

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  4. You are hilarious — and brave to put 1980s photos on the worldwide net. I usually get a haircut every four or five weeks; however, due to breaking my leg two days before my January appointment, I haven’t had a haircut since December 31, 2019. There will be no pictures on my blog!

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    1. You big chicken. I forgot about your broken leg. How are you doing with that? That 80s pic was the top 5 worst photos I kept (and not sure why). I had to share.

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  5. Yes, I’m the biggest chicken of them all. I think it’s hilarious that the huge eyeglasses of the 80s are back. I should have kept those old frames! Thanks for asking about my leg. As of 10 days ago I got rid of the ankle to hip brace and was told I could start putting weight on my right foot. After a mere 13 weeks, I got my freedom. Last week the fun of physical therapy began — just when I was getting used to no pain. I now have arthritis in my knee. Getting old ain’t for sissies! After only leaving the house every four weeks for x-rays, it’s now scary to put on a mask and go to PT twice-a-week. It’s a whole new world out there, and I don’t particularly like it. The pulmonary embolism in February didn’t kill me, so I hope I don’t catch Covid-19 at PT !

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    1. What a crazy combat zone it is we are living in. I still can’t get used to walking down the street on one side and a girl passes on the other side but pulls down her full plastic protective mask before I can breath on her from 15 feet away. Makes me feel very much 5th grade cooties again. Hope it ends soon. Glad your leg is healing. Hang in there.

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    1. I think that’s adorable! My husband still wants me to cut his hair even though the shops are open again. I’ve created a monster in that one. Thanks for the comment. Have a wonderful if ragged day!

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