If you love something you must set it free.....

I woke up last Thursday with a "Dear Don" letter on my chest.  It was written eloquently by my moustache, to tell me that it was going to go on walk about.  Perhaps someday it would return, perhaps not.  The 'Stache has always been whimsical like that.  There are some things I'll miss, then again there are things I won't.



Thats right...I said what I said and meant it.  What are you gonna do about it.....

I mean first off its just completely awesome.  I mean look at that thing.  Its beastly, and it reeks of testosterone.  My 'Stache looks like it could whip you in a fight by itself with on hand tied behind its back.  It looks like a hunting trip, and smells like freshly cut cedar and chain saw oil.  It conveyed the sense that a man sporting this thing was not to be trifled with.  The 'Stache got stares from passers by, admiration from other men, shrieks of fear from children, and the women.....well the women swooned in its very presence.




I am forced by the federal government to supply the following warning.  If you are a female between the ages of 18 and 65 the above image may cause shortness of breath, heart palpatations, dizziness, light headedness, weakness in the knees, and the vapors.  Please exercise caution when looking at it.

However the 'Stache did have its drawbacks.  Not that I would ever say anything to the 'Stache but he was a little high maintenance.  What with all the waxing, and combing to keep him in place on my lip and out of my food it took a little more time grooming than I am typically accustomed too.  Then there were times when he would try and sample my food.  A most inconvenient fact as I am not particularly fond of chewing on facial hair with my Quiznos sandwich.  Every so often he would dive in for a taste unbeknownst to me and foul my eating experience.  And finally there was the training with the 'Stache.  In case some of you didn't know the 'Stache is like a built in sweat band.  Holding on to and collecting those beads of sweat so painfully earned on runs and rides.  Unfortunately there is a thresh hold to how much sweat the 'Stache can hold.  Eventually we would pass that at some point in training and the 'Stache would unleash a tidal wave of perspiration at a most inopportune time, like when I was sucking in a deep breath.  Thereby incapacitating me as I coughed and spit, and sputtered.




Here I sit all bare lipped and melancholy...and looking 10 years younger.

I received a post card from Maui from the 'Stache saying he was enjoying himself on sabbatical.  He asked me to send his love to his legion of adoring fans and to rest assured that he would some day triumphantly return.  Until then, I suppose we just light a candle in the window and wait.  If you love something you have to set it free, and if it returns then it was meant to be.  If it doesn't, then it was one ungrateful  facial hair accessory who never appreciated all the effort you put forth in its care.

Just kidding 'Stache......come back!!!!