Paul gets a haircut!

I've needed a haircut now for about, oh, three months. But between finals and moving and dealing with the French consultate, there just wasn't time.

When we were in Ohio, everyone suggested that my brother-in-law Kenn, who is excellent at shearing sheep, cut my hair. Alas, he had to plow snow. (He won a contract at Cleveland airport.)

So today, I went to a Jean Louis David salon, which is part of a big chain that even has branches in New York. I figured, if it's that big, it has to be good. Sort of like Supercuts, but without the valuable money-saving coupons.

Asking for a haircut in French, even with the liberal use of a French-English dictionary, was a little nerve-racking. I sounded like one of those automated voice mail systems: "Good morning. I. Would like. One. Haircut please."

Luckily, I got a good haircut -- even better than a Supercut, I daresay, though it cost a heck of a lot more, too. French salons, apparently, don't offer discount coupons.