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The ‘No beard’ look is judged bad, to wit, I am 15 years older than when I last saw my chin. It is quite a shock to see such a sudden surge of age. My eyes are tired, my chin not so firm, and my hair thinner.  This weekend I start a new crop or whiskers. Happily it takes only a week to have a nice start.

Someone shaved off his beard as well.  I forgot what it is like to have a kiss without the tickle of whiskers.

This Labor Day weekend I will take the “Labor” part literally. I have a pile of charts to review. The backyard is in desperate need of a tidy up.

My new shirt pattern stencils should arrive. Soon I can cut out pieces quick as a wink. The house will look like a sweat shop.

Other Labor Day tasks: I hope to make some sort of new soup. I found a BBQ sauce that promises to ‘kick butt’.  Jolly Good Fun!

The Personal Trainer now has a ‘private practice’. The place is quite butch; it is located in a garage with ropes, slings, and sandbags. I haven’t seen so many props since The AA Meat Rack in Chicago. In the back of the place are three mammoth tires, the type seen in tractors. What are they for? ‘You’ll see” I was told. Oh. He has me pushing things back and forth, picking things up and down, and swinging kettle bells. I am getting in touch with my inner-Sisyphus.

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