Plink, Plink: Pluck, Pluck

PLINK, PLINK:

I've been very deep in thought this week. I'm writing this prior to my first piano recital at age 66. (TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT) It's funny, irony like funny, that the piece I'm playing with my music mentor, Rosemary Rogers, was composed by Carl Reinecke. It is funny because Carl started composing in Denmark at the age of seven. And, by contrast his work is about to be performed by some guy who is taking piano lessons with his social security check.

Anyway, the prospect of sitting down with Professor Rosemary, and playing Reinecke's Allegretto duet, is in and of itself a subject of deep musing. But you know what? It pales in comparison to the thoughts that keep racing through my brain about my beard. Like the piano, for me the beard is essentially a first.

PLUCK, PLUCK:

One thing I've noticed is, once again, I'm significantly behind the fashion curve. I'm journalistically embarrassed that I hadn't noticed about half of the male YOUs, already have one of these artistic natural formations. So, as I share my observations, a large percentage of you will be deciding this is a good time to make a tuna sandwich. And, hey, there's an accidental transition for you.

Tuna? Tuna is one of those nutrients that can cause great embarrassment if you don't immediately wipe your mustache following every bite. It loves to collect in the matting in very noticeable chunks (NOTICEABLE TO EVERY ONE BUT YOU) I don't drink milk, per SE, so you'd think I'd be beyond soaking the matting above my upper lip. But I do drink Soy Milk. The result is the same. Unless you have a pocket mirror, or have some gorgeous woman point at you and break out in laughter, will you be aware you SEEM to be foaming at the mouth.

Are you sporting the notion that women love beards and are dying to kiss the faces that own them? Slap yourself back into reality. Facial, hair I'm discovering, is far coarser than that which grows higher up. You can typically recognize a woman who knows a man with a beard by the rash on her cheek.

But this is not at all a negative muse. Even as trimming is considered, a beard really does cut down on the morning grooming session.

Having a beard does in fact alter your identity and impact your personality. I've been sitting her trying to imagine Freud without his goatee, Lenin without his creation, Ulysses S. Grant CLEAN SHAVEN. They were probably all three "type B's" without their beards.

I've already had quite a few people tell me I look a lot more sophisticated with a beard. I suspect that is why so many scholars, and men WANTING to be scholars, sport them.

Have you noticed how Maria Sharapova seems to delight in pushing strands of hair out of her eyes whilst playing tennis. By consent then, playing with your beard as you gesture your way through your professional day must be acceptable. I find myself envying those men with enough facial flora to twirl their chin locks.

I need to go practice on the piano one more time, but just one more bearded observation. Does a woman who is in close quarters with a man who has decided to sport a beard, ultimately get used to it, and in fact sort of like it?

"Peggy?"

"NO!!!!!!"