The Bearded Truth

As you may know, I occasionally use the approach of winter as a good excuse to stop shaving. I have grown a beard several times over the last few years (once, precariously close to my wedding day, according to Monkey, but that was for a show, not the weather; and, I shaved it (and got a haircut) before the nuptials). I usually try to keep it trimmed neatly, rarely letting it grow beyond 1/2 inch in length (except for that time before the wedding, but, again, it all worked out).

This year, I got a jump on things, choosing the Labor Day holiday as the weekend to begin my shaving moratorium (much to Monkey's dismay, really; I think she has stressful memories of that beard I had before the wedding (it was something to behold)). I also resolved to allow my beard to grow to whatever length it might reach before a) the weather warmed in Spring, b) I tired of the beard, or c) Monkey cut it off as I slept. Thus far, our plan is in full effect.

I would like, before the next several months are out, to be sporting the 19th century shovel beard look, but only time will tell if I am able to pull that off. Monkey, not being much of a history buff, is hoping for other things, like a return to those days just prior to our wedding, when I emerged from the bathroom as smooth-faced as I ever have been.

Stay tuned.