No shaving for me!

I've decided that I'm not going to shave until we either:

1. Get into the house we're trying to buy.
2. Have our baby.

Tracy isn't terribly fond of the idea, but I think she'll let it go, since it has a definite end date. I think I'll explain it as some modern adaptation of the nazarite vows. That ought to get people confused! If you don't remember what nazarites are, go read your Old Testament Study manual again. Yeah, I think when I'm done, I'm going to shave so I can look nice for the pictures, then after the baby's born, and we get good pictures, I'm gonna shave my head, too.

I'll get some pictures so everyone can see where I'm at now, but I have to tell you, this isn't going to be a cool beard. I know I can't grow a good beard, so I don't. Well, until now. There always has to be a first time. Except for Dad, I guess. I've never seen him anything more than 4 or 5 days' stubble.

Of course, not shaving for 3 or 4 weeks also gives me instant dirtbag climber cred. In California: "Yeah, so I like, spent my last 5 bucks on this carabiner, so I totally can't afford to shave, man." Or the ever-so-slightly more mature: "I've been in a bivy on top of Mount Hood for the past week, rescue climber who weren't as hardcore/lucky as me." Or the East Coast Old Man and the Rock: "I don't shave so I can use the hair on my face as insulation while I'm climbing Mount Washington, and I can cut it, braid and splice it together, and rappel off my hair down a cliff if I lose my rope." (Wait, Hemingway didn't write something titled that? Oops.)


Anyway, I'll try to get you pictures of the event.