The silent hairdresser

I have many jobs. None of them pay, of course, but they are jobs nonetheless. They are things that I have to do that no one else will do because for whatever reason they have better things to learn to do. This is my gift. I'm a Jackie of all trades. One of those jobs is hairdresser extraordinare to my grandparents. They obviously have very flexible expectations because I really have no business cutting hair. But, once a month I pull out the gear and pretend that I have a clue. I remember overhearing my grandmother tell someone once that I had taken a course on how to cut hair - perhaps that gave her solace, but it wasn't a lick of truth. In preparation, she pulls out the Nova Scotian flag hanging proudly in the garage and it assumes it's secondary role as hair cutting cape. Yes, my Nova Scotian friends, I allowed this to happen. She said it's the perfect hair cutting cape and that no one needs to know because it's going right back in it's place hanging in the garage and that I should shut up about it and cut her hair. Yes, she said all that. And she threatened me with no pasta lunch that day. I was starving.