Time for another Very Bad Haircut Day!

"Not too short on my neck," Birdie said.

"I know, I know," I replied.

"I'd like the Audrey Hepburn look, something that will look good when I'm in a convertible," the llama said.

"With Cary Grant?"

"Yes, he will do, and a scarf loosely around my head, and neck, like vintage Grace Kelly, cruising on the Riviera."

And so began yet another annual Very Bad Haircut. I first started giving them when I was four. I got my parent's dog trimmers, and gave my best friend and neighbor, Julie Cummings, a haircut. My mother spent the rest of our residency in that neighborhood apologizing. I don't know why, me and Julie were thinking it looked great.

Yea, I could hire a shearer for $40 to sheer her in one swoop shave, but what fun is that? Plus, I like her a bit longer and not shaved. This year, Birdie was a pro. After three years she is more mature and likes sitting in the beauty shop chair.

"Do you have any movie star magazines to read? Vintage? Stars today are so crass..." she asked.

The other great thing is we got it done in about an hour, with only one pair of scissors, mainly because Birdie behaved, and I have perfected my Very Bad Haircut technique. It's all in getting under the wool and making continual cuts.

She has a lot of taupe brown under there and even some polk-a-dots.

She had a good dust roll later and seems to look so dainty.

"You look like a tea cup," I told her.

"Heavens, no. I look like Audrey Hepburn," she replied.

Yes, yes, it is true. When not looking like Grace Kelly in motion, she looks like Audrey Hepburn. If we could all be so blessed.

It's another episode of The Very Bad Haircut!

I'm notorious in the barnyard for my raggedy haircut skills. Not only have I taken to whacking off my own hair clumps when needed [soon to happen], I also am in charge of giving haircuts to Martyn and anyone else that needs one...like the llama.

I could pay $35 and have a guy come do it, but I actually like doing it. I will use the fiber for Birdie Bird Balls so a non sheered hair cut is just fine with me. However, it takes me a couple days because I use scissors, and I do her body first then her neck, and then rest couple days and do her legs, which she hates. So right now the llama is walking around with a poodle cut on her neck and body and goofy untrimmed legs and belly.

I figured there was no point in a tight sheer since it is almost August.

I apologized to her for the non Ms. Universe styling job but she didn't care. And it's fun to see her spots come out again. She left the barn and Benedetto greeted her immediately, he was very enamored with her new look, and walked with her side by side for some time.

"That's a pretty bad haircut, but you are still beautiful," I heard him say.

And they trotted off to a dusting spot together for a good roll.

It's time for The Very Bad Haircut

As some of you who follow along already know, I give Very Bad Haircuts–and today's lucky recipient was Birdie. She did very well, pretty well anyway. She is much easier to trim than Aldo the Elder was, and there was no cow kicking [although she was on the verge].

I never plan out my Very Bad Haircut days which is part of the reason I give Very Bad Haircuts-my scissors are never as sharp as they should be for starters, but when the hankering to give a Very Bad Haircut takes over, I can't stop myself. So chop away we did. Birdie has easy hair to cut, it is very fine. I saved some to use in the Emerging Crone Workshop.

Llamas can lay down on you when you are trimming. You can still keep working on them, or I do, which means part of their legs don't get trimmed, and this adds to my skill as a Very Bad Haircutter. But we got it done. I took her out to walk her afterwards and she did what she always does after a Very Bad Haircut–she took a good roll in the dust.

The concluding part of giving this Very Bad Haircut was I got vacuumed. My husband, ladies, some of you covet this, but he vacuums. So today he vacuumed me as I was covered in Birdie hair.

Mr. Haircut is back

We have a new ritual. Every year, since last, Aldo the Elder becomes Mr. Haircut. This lasts one week from his summer sheering. It is so startling, I'm sure for him too, to see him go from heavy, burdensome fiber dripping off his limbs and back, to a sheered bunny coat, that I can't help but call him "Mr. Haircut" for a short period until we all adjust. I give a horrible haircut, choppy and rough, but the end result is the same as a good sheer-comfort for the beast.

"Perhaps a professional barber would be appropriate," he suggests politely.

Considering I haven't invested in sheering clippers yet, perhaps he's right. But I enjoy it actually. And any kind of grooming with the animals is also trust building. Last year it took forever to give Aldo, er, Mr. Haircut his sheer due to my inexperience. You learn to let the wool lift off the skin, and take your scissor under it, cutting, in large pieces–versus just little snips. He didn't sit down once, and it was only toward the end where he threatened a cow kick as I tried to work on the final lower hind leg.

"Suit yourself, you can keep those too wool lumps by your ankle," I said.

I also was amused at the many natural items I found within his wool coat as I clipped away–acorns, long stems and a pebble.

"Your like a walking suitcase," I told him.

I'm behind on the sheering and I apologized to him for that. The two week heat wave has me behind on many things as I am incapable of working outside in it. My redhead skin just boils and I get physically ill. So I finally am getting caught up with the llamas and now have to do Wendell, who used to be Ollie Ollie Oxen Free but he is now Wendell. He just wasn't an Ollie Ollie. He actually reminds me a lot of Gomez or Cousin It. Anyway, he is next and his beautiful black tresses will become part of some of my raggedy creature dolls.

When the old man needs a haircut

Working alone with a creature, or nature, allows you to go back into your own memory. It gives you quiet space to percolate, dream, grieve, love, laugh...remember.

All around the world, women patiently give their their old men haircuts. My mother did it for my father in his final years. I've always cut The Dirt Farmer's locks and am sure I'll do it until I can't-at which point he can just grow it long and wispy.

So I felt obliged to get Aldo out of his winter suit. I had waited because of the rush of Pino Pie Day and had hoped to find a shearer, but to no avail. Since I do everything on my own anyway, I felt it was a good bonding time for me and llama.

For starters, I talked to my llama friend up the road and got some tips. Fortunately, Aldo is very obedient and there wasn't any problem between customer and hair cutter. No spits or kicks. In fact, I think he liked it. Who wouldn't like getting all that hair off?

Now, I don't think I will win "The 2014 Best Llama Haircut" category this year, but since I didn't enter one either, who cares. I don't. I just was pleased I could help him out. It took about three hours, and that was because I was using three different pairs of scissors.

NOTE to all llama experts reading this post-and I know you are out there- please do not write and scoff at me for my scissor choice. I simply felt serendipitous upon waking, and even though I knew I didn't have the proper gear, decided to forge ahead to do a hair cut knowing the heat was coming.

So of course the minute I started cutting, I immediately knew I had to invest in llama shearers, and I will. I could have taken off another inch, and might try to find a proper clipper and do that this coming week or next. Martyn had to be summoned several times to sharpen my scissors, and as he gave me back one pair, I'd take the newly sharpened pair and he'd run off and sharpen the dulled pair.

What I really loved about giving the haircut though were the simple moments between woman and llama. Aldo really likes to have his eyeballs gently rubbed, and even kissed. Since he was tied, I got to do a lot of that. The other wonderful part about working alone with a creature, or nature, is it allows you to go back into your own memory. It gives you quiet space to percolate, dream, grieve, love, laugh...remember. I had a memory flash through me of giving the dog a haircut when I was about six - I got a hold of the electric dog trimmer unbeknownst to my mother. That shaved little poodle took it in stride. I then proceeded to shave the bangs of my next door neighbor, also my age, but my mother found us just as my friend was about to clip my hair. I guess she got the worst of it, but we thought it looked fabulous. Our mothers did not.

So Aldo's hair cut might not be the best, but nobody was laughing around here. In fact, all the hair on the ground provided intrigue, and Aldo had many visitors during his post hair cut. Even the pig came by to roll in it.

As I left, The Great White looked a bit smaller. A bit older. I was happy to see he wasn't as thin as I dreaded. But like all old men who get free haircuts from their women, he hobbled off a bit lighter, and appreciative of the help I'm sure.