Hello Spring! Walking on the streets in NYC in the springtime is one of my absolute favorite things to do. I was walking to a local restaurant to get some dinner last night and had two beard conversations! I ran into Ron whose beard is looking fabulous. I picked up my dinner and started walking back to my apartment. I ended up walking next to a spry looking guy with a full white beard lugging some big bags. He complimented my my beard right off and we started talking about all of beard styles we have ever had. He used to be able to grow a stomach length beard in 13 months’ time! Amazing! It takes me about a year to get to my maximum of about 6-7 inches. He was an absolute treat to talk to. It made me smile to talk with a random person on the street and have such a effortless conversation. Hint to all men: Grow a beard, it’s an instant conversation starter., and the ladies like it too!

This afternoon while walking by the Whitney my beard was on the radio! My beard truly likes being on the radio, or in any spotlight type situation for that matter. A woman in a wheelchair who was sitting in a storefront with a microphone stopped me and asked me if my beard would answer some questions. (At least that’s what it heard!) She asked some generic “how long did it take to get to that length”, and “how do you eat” questions. My beard loves the attention and it was very nice to speak to someone nicely and respectfully. I often have people come up to me on the street and give me weird looks before asking with a sneer how long it took to grow that thing. Pleasant conversation is what a healthy beard desires.

Last night in my dreams I must have been at odds with my mustache. It chose to revolt and attack the eye.

Very unprofessional mustache, very unprofessional.

This morning in the elevator at work, a man told me I reminded him of ZZ Top for soooome reason

This evening my beard told me it wanted to grow longer. I say, let it.

The other night we had a bit of rain. This is all fine and good, washing the city clean, yadda, yadda. Part of being an avid cyclist in NYC is dealing with the elements, that is why god made beards. Right? To deal with the elements? Riding up 1st Ave. with wet brakes in Manhattan traffic is a skill difficult to learn. As I was sitting down for a short, wet assed, break to have a bite of dinner at Curly’s I realized it was my first wet beard of the season. Welcome back cold fall rain, may my chin be warm and dry.

Before my beard came to fruition, it was divided. Two hemispheres of hair, two mounds of pure love. It was a few years before the power of the beard struck me. Fortunately, I have seen the light. The men in my family are great beard growers. Not that we have competed in any competitions, but I would say we can grow ‘em long and strong.

The facial hair in the picture below garnered this response on the streets of Brooklyn from a man walking with his family:

Angrily, “That is the worst facial hair I have ever seen in my entire life!”

I love my beard!