She'll Come For You in October, My Sister. Cynde-Loo, Cynde-Loo, Cynde-Loo. Coming Soon to a Haunted House Near You

I'm trying to remember, exactly, how the story would go. Were we in elementary school? Middle school? Did my parents allow my older sister to babysit us after she became a certain age, and after Tony Caroli did that great stunt when, we weren't behaving, he fell down the stairs and pretended to be dead - full ketchup effect and all? I think her name was Cynde-Loo, and it had to be around the time she was in Gillette Road Winterguard because she had bangs. She would squirt her hair with a water bottle, comb her hair down the front of her face, then chase my little sister and me around the house. 

Cynde-Loo, Cynde-Loo, Cynde-Loo.

(and now I know I'm probably giving Mike role-playing ideas).

Anyway, I've been chronicling my hair every day since March when we were first put onto lockdown. I wanted to see what strange shenanigans my head could get into and I have almost 100 photographs to document the days. I have, however, gone to get the back and sides shaved, and the twins talked me into the man-nub thing (which is getting old and stupid). Still, yesterday, when I combed my hair down, I jumped back. HOLY COW! THAT'S CYNDE LOO. She's back and after me again. 

I have so few memories of my older sister while growing up, because she was too good to play with Casey and me. I do remember, however, when she'd put on this evil persona and haunt us in a game of chase. She'd run after us, and whatever dog we had at the time, would most likely run after her. 

It's October and I'm thinking Halloween (and thinking I might try this haircut out with Mary Elisabeth at my side - the armless, legless doll that was gifted to me....she loves when I allow her to play with others). 

And I'm also loving this photo, because I know it will be added to all the ones Google has for me when you type in "Bryan Ripley Crandall." Eventually, I will post all the others I've taken during this time of crazy, but I'm holding out to possibly write a book about Covid-head...not that anyone would buy it, but they might.

Cynde-Loo. Cynde-Loo. Cynde-Loo.