Haircut

I got my hair, or what's left of it, cut today. My latina neighbor, Veronica, has a blood-colored front room salon in her house. I bravely entered it at 11:15am, with a prayer on my lips that I would not regret going under the knife, so to speak, like I did the last time I paid someone to give me a hack job. She talked cheerfully and steadily in a strong, forcefully optimistic voice. One phrase passed from her mouth into my head not only through my ears but also through my eyes; I saw five of her words come at me in slow, bold, well-defined letters. I recognized Wisdom and wanted to laugh: "Discipline starts with a haircut." She was energetically talking about cutting little boys' hair, but instinct told me this was a personal message. So. Looks like progress is on its way; discipline starts with a bob.