I’m somewhat attached to my facial hair.
It’s Monday morning & I haven’t had my coffee.
I haven’t been entirely clean-shaven in almost 13 years, for three reasons:
First, I really don’t like shaving. It’s never smooth, I break out in razor burn, and it’s too time-consuming.
Second, I don’t particularly enjoy looking younger than the students I teach, even though I’m almost twice their age.
Third, Krystal likes my Van Dyke. But not the full beard I’ve been growing since April. sigh
But now my face is cold. You see, Krystal started a new job two years ago (she just got full time back in October!) as an historical interpreter. Every year her site puts on a Christmas extravaganza called Candlelight, and this year we were asked to play the part of 1835 couple Mr and Mrs George Dixon, henpecked husband and disliked tailor (for very good reasons, I might add). However, men in 1835 America didn’t sport much facial hair.
And now, a tragedy in four parts:
Of course, it doesn’t look as bad when I’m costumed as Mr Dixon himself:
Yes, I know I don’t have a neckerchief; this was remedied in short order.
However, I’m not sure how it will fly in real life. My mother pointed out that I look very much like my Great-Grandpa Brown (her grandfather) circa 1919:
What luck! We both favored bow ties, too!
As fellow blogger and Twitter friend Pleasant Street pointed out:
@JayEldred now that's love—
Pleasant Street (@AreYouThrilled) December 11, 2016