Furry Friends

The final photo of my facial furriness in full flower:

Katy looks rather dubious, doesn't she? It's probably because she thinks my face resembles the sort of thing she should be tracking and hunting, not the sort of thing she should be held up in the air next to. Or it could be that she's just jealous of the luxurious fur of my face. She is, after all, an insufficiently insulated beagle. If her fur was as thick as my beard we wouldn't have to put that silly coat on her when it gets too cold outside.

Worry not, beard fans. It's not altogether gone yet. But I've got a couple of politickin' events the next couple of days and I have to admit that the beard was no longer suitable for public appearances in places that don't have words like "Crik" or "Haller" in their name. And the only political offices it looked like I could be eligible for would be in organizations that include the initials "M.C." as part of their name.*

So, I finally broke down and bought a trimmer to get me through until my semi-retired barber returns from his vacation. Um, if he returns from his vacation. There are distinctions to be drawn between vacationing, semi-retired, and fully retired. But any barber who closes the shop for a five-week vacation is rapidly sliding into "fully retired."

*Special bonus prize goes to the first reader to tell everybody what the "M.C." in that reference stands for.