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Saturday, September 20, 2014

The Start to Retirement Life: So Much Fun, However There is Always a Fly in the Ointment...

My darling friend's
Since June so much has happened. We moved, started a new church/Ward, schools, teams, new friends, one of my dear friends got a new husband, (he is fabulous!) we have a new granddaughter, The Marine started his first post retirement job and on and on and on. My heart is truly full. And Elder Recruit 2 comes home in just 4 short weeks.

Did I say full? No, my heart is growing three sizes, and I think it was already feeling full to start with!

There is only one problem that truly has me concerned, perplexed and just uncomfortable dang it.

Wedding set up
  "I've been driving/working look"
It's The Marine and his facial hair. I hate it.

Now hate is a strong word and I know this, but I feel THAT strongly about his whiskers. I have even threatened to not shave until he does and have made darn good starts, but then I just gross myself out and pull out the razors.

He grew a full beard and then trimmed it down to the goatee type thing, that to his credit he groomed faithfully.

In the beginning I indulged this hairy behavior because, well, it was expected. Almost 28 years of faithful shaving (except on leave, I'll admit he had moments) I figured the boy was entitled to some face fur. But then it just kept staying there, you know like moss? It spread out and continued to cover every surface.

 A couple of months had gone by and I began to suggest (whine) that maybe it was time to morph back into the man I fell in love with. No joy for Kelli.

Then one day he appeared. That hunky Marine I said I do to. I was elated. He truly loves me! I leaped upon him in glee and smoothed my cheek next to his, sighing with happiness and contentment. I said "you love me, you really love me!"

A slight pause which gave me pause.

"Um, sure, of course I do" the now soft cheeked Old Marine said.

I looked at him. He grinned. I asked "WHAT?"

"Well, actually I've been trimming and it started going crooked, so I've hit the reset button. I'm starting over."

I love him in spite of the whiskers.
 I just didn't think
to add no whiskers to our vows.
NOOOOOOOO! Say it isn't so! This is a bad dream. WAKE UP WAKE UP

Yes, yes he did. Now we are back to the scratchy dirty phase. I so want to go take a little razor and just shave little divots into the whiskers while he sleeps. You know, how rich people stomp divots during a polo match? Only I'd use a razor. In the dead of night, dressed in black.

Then I would run. Really, really fast.

Or a strip of hair depilatory down the center of his chin. Only I'd have to be ready to never sleep again as the next night I'd find the center of my head slathered in said depilatory.

This would also involve very fast running at some point as well. So due to the fact that I abhor running, and I appreciate a good night's sleep, I continue to bear this burden of facial hair experimentation with the same grace and resolve I faced many challenges from life with a Marine. Grim determination, a great deal of complaining, continued hollow empty threats, tantrums and shortly bribery.

There was a reason I married  a Marine. I always thought it was the uniform. I now know it was because I could actually see his FACE!

I'm pretty sure I am thinking about his facial hair.

1 comment:

Rebecca said...

Yay! And more, more more!

I'm with you on the facial hair- yuck!!


What follows on these posts is true to the best of my knowledge, except what isn't. I only change names to protect the innocent and not so innocent.