This time of year, most everyone is looking forward to turkeys and weird relatives and pie. That’s all fine and everything, but there is something else I am excited for.
Jazz has this tradition of growing a beard from Thanksgiving Day to Christmas Day. That’s right, no shaving. I think its an old college ritual, spawned from laziness, groomed into a habit that he continues every year.
Last year, I invited Jazz to spend Christmas with my family. This is kind of a big deal. Christmas is like a elaborate show at my house. Its a Holiday Spectacular complete with Victorian Caroling, a Gingerbread House Contest, and a theatrical reading of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. After Jazz casually dropped the “oh bytheway I will be BEARDED JAZZ for Christmas” bomb on me, I kinda freaked out. But, this is the first time I have brought a boyfriend home! What will everyone think of my mountain man from Utah? My ward members will probably just smile and say “Nice to meet you” but really think “This guy cuts wood and drinks beer.” Much like the Grinch, I plotted for ways to stop BEARDED JAZZ from coming. I begged. Pleaded. Gnashed my teeth. Nothing worked.
On Thanksgiving Day, he shaved his lovely face, his skin was soft and smooth. And so it began. His stubble grew in, prickly and rough. I like his stubble. It feels manly. And then his facial hair grew some more. And then some more. It grew and grew and grew. Until Jazz was transformed into BEARDED JAZZ.
Then– something totally unexpected and magical happened. I fell in love with BEARDED JAZZ. He was soft! He was fluffy! He was mountainous and manly! His voice became deeper and he stood up straighter and he wore flannel and said things like “Hey there little lady.” I swooned in his presence.
On Christmas day we opened presents, had Christmas bread, and played some Guitar Hero. Sadly, the time came to say goodbye to BEARDED JAZZ in time for fancy Christmas dinner. Jazz went outside to shave in the grass (because who needs those little hairs everywhere!) and I stood at the window and shed some tears for my beardy love. This is how Jazz returned to the house:
He kind of looks like a walrus that drives a white un-marked van.