My grandmother’s long national nightmare is over. I shaved last night. It’s my present to her for my trip home to Rayne tonight. She thinks I look horrible with a beard. (“You look like a damned hippie.”)

I always let my facial hair grow during lengthy vacations. The first time was in 1999, when I had three weeks in the South Pacific for a story, followed by three weeks on vacation in central China. It came in scraggly, but I was persistent. It lasted about a year.

This iteration started when I went back to China for vacation last summer. Which means that the people who know me from blogging (which I began in September) have never known me clean-shaven. Don’t be too shocked.

Unfortunately, whenever I do shave off the beard, I look like a baby-faced 12-year-old for a few days, as my jaw toughens up from the exposure. Luckily, I’ll spend those few days in Louisiana with no one to impress but my grandmother.

03 July 2002

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