scared thrilled scared thrill scared thrilled

I find most things in life both scary and thrilling. I suppose I should hope it's always this way, but sometimes it feels like an awful lot of work.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

the beard is no more.

It's true. She's been wittled down to a wee moustache, which is still pretty fun. I work at a job where they like their employees to look professional, and I discovered that the point of a beard, for me at least, is not to look professional. I want a mountain man's beard, not a doctor's. I want a leftovers-hiding beard, a beard that has its own personality and its own odour... not likely to be allowed at Canlis. I could just imagine setting down a plate of seared scallop with Steiber Farms Duck Egg topped with Meyer River Salt (is that what it's called?) and having a button mushroom from my lunchtime sandwich drop from my beard onto the plate. Not cool. So I shaved it. Not that the moustache is any more professional, unless you're a professional cowboy or pornstar (and I am neither), but one of the chefs where I work has one, so I figure I should be able to get away with it.

The picture is alittle menhir I made out of beard-hair.


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