I Am Deacon, I Am Shorn

A completely useless post, unless you’ve inadvertently swallowed poison and need a visual emetic (three photos of me) to help bring the toxins back up out of your stomach.

I used to wear a goatee (OK, technically, a Van Dyke, since I have a mustache, but most people don’t get that nuance) in the warmer weather months, and reserved the full beard for fall and winter mode. But as my wife began to find my old glasses less and less desirable to look upon, it was decided in a wholly (or at least mostly) democratic fashion that I should retain the full beard until we could afford to get me an eye appointment and new specs. And so it’s been more than a year now, I think, since I’ve seen my cheeks.

I’ve had the new glasses (geek chic look, I like to call it) for months, but only now is the weather truly beginning to make me think warmth is back. So, while I risk losing my blogging strength by cutting off more than half my beard, I will risk the Lord’s wrath. Back to the Van Dyke facial hair for a while, so that Mrs. Blue can have some melanin-challenged cheeks to rub and pinch again.

Little Girl Blue was fascinated with the whole process, and insisted on watching while I removed the beard and stubble. She didn’t even remember that I once had cheeks to show.

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