Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Activity: Praying for the snow beard to come off.
A few weeks ago I mentioned to my husband that our neighbor wasn’t going to shave his beard until the first powder day. Jared thought that was a great idea. I thought the powder day would happen sometime that week, so I said go ahead and grow a beard. The rules for shaving off the beard: skiing the first powder day of at least 10 inches up at Solitude; or by December 12 when we take off for a romantic weekend.
That was the second week of November, a month ago. Unfortunately for me, waiting for the snow has been like waiting for water to boil. Snow in the past month has done little to cover the crusty, rocky runs. Despite the bleak outlook, Jared hasn’t given up. He is still holding out. Slowly, his facial hair is starting to fill in and is getting long enough to notice if he has any gray hairs (and he does, I think).
I want it to snow, not just so he can be clean-shaven, but so he will stop whining about the color brown. Last week while walking the dog and looking at the Wasatch Mountains he said, “You know I usually love brown, it’s one of my favorite colors. But right now I hate it, it’s the ugliest color ever.” I asked him why he wants it to snow so bad. For once I had given him a reason not to shave, something he hates doing. Jared: “I don’t really like having a beard. It feels weird.” Me: “HUH?”
It has to snow several feet this week or he’s going to have to shave this Saturday before we get in the car for our trip to Idaho. As much as I hate driving in the snow, I’m praying for the snow to come. I don’t think I can handle his facial hair, or the disappointed look on his face whenever he looks out the window in the morning in search of snow.
Lesson: Never let your spouse bet on the snow. The dealer, in this case Mother Nature, always wins.
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