Santa Claus, Is it you?

I'm well aware of the fact that I haven't posted anything on this blog for the past several months, but there is a good reason for that. I've been down in Hoonah working on the boat and fishing and wishing that I was fishing instead of working on the boat and wishing I was home instead of in Hoonah working on the boat and well... I wish I could troll here in Wasilla. Anyway, I don't have the internet in Hoonah. I've been staying on the boat and it's less than ideal living conditions. In fact people living in dryer boxes on the street might be considered living high on the hog by comparison. Well, perhaps I'm exaggerating just a tad, but not much. I had already planned to be here in Wasilla during this time span. It was somewhat fortunate I guess that the transmission on the boat decided to give up the ghost during this time. I'm hopeful that by the time I get back to Hoonah it will have been fixed and will have only cost me my left arm. As it is, I just spoke to Alaska Seaplanes and discovered that my 220 pound transmission cost me $385.90 just to fly one way to Sitka. I spent less than that to fly my fat butt to Juneau- first class. I think I could probably fly across the country for less. However, they have me by the short hairs, so I have to pay up and pray that the tranny gets fixed in a timely manner so I can recover some of the money I've spent.

As you can see, I've grown a beard. I look like a cross between Sigmund Freud and Santa Claus, although every time I see myself in the mirror, the song by Ray Stevens comes to mind- Ahab the Arab. He was the sheik of the burning sands. I figured it would be easier to grow the beard than to run a sharp razor blindly over my face. I don't have any mirrors on the boat, which is just as well, because I don't want to be faced with the personal disappointment  of how I look as well as my poor performance on the fishing grounds so far this year. It would be almost more than I can take. 

My son Brian grew a beard- a long dark fuzzy thing that makes me think of a skin head or perhaps a devout Amish man. I think people look at me differently since I've had the beard. I don't know what they are thinking so much, with the exception of my family. My boys think it's cool, Jen hates it, but she doesn't like beards anyway. I wonder what her reaction would be if she ever met a bearded lady. I think Liz and Autumn both laughed. A kind of nervous laughter, like they may be wondering if this is the result of getting old and losing my faculties and what can they expect next? Will I be running around in a pair of red, white and blue shorts with a beanie on my head or what?

Anyway, because I'm returning to the boat for at least a bit longer, and perhaps for another six weeks or so- ugh, I'm going to just get it trimmed and hope for the best. I don't want to start all over again. Frankly, the blasted thing is itchy, and when I brush my teeth the slobber dribbles down into it and it takes a gallon of water to wash it out. Even after I've toweled it off, there is still water in it. That gives me an idea for a new product- The Beard Canteen. Drink your favorite beverage liberally and don't worry about any spill over. In fact, if you're the overly neat type, you may want to dip your beard into your glass and let it soak up the liquid. I can guarantee you it will still be there hours later.

I find myself stroking my beard like I'm deep in thought. Actually I'm just touching it, trying to get used to the fact that it's there. Plus I want to make sure that fleas, mice and birds don't nest in it. If it grows much longer, I could hide things in there, like if I were to visit one of my fishing friends and coveted his hottest lure. While his back was turned I could hastily grab it, shove it into the recesses of the beard and carry on a conversation like nothing happened. I could kind of make a show of emptying my pockets in front of him, like I was looking for something, and he would never suspect that I had the item of my desire hidden in my facial hair. That brings to mind another nifty product- The Beard Pocket. You could hide all of your valuables in there, as long as they didn't weight more than an ounce of two. I'm hoping that in a few months that when I'm watching TV and all the advertising for new Christmas doo-dads start in that I don't see either of my original ideas being promoted. With fishing as it is so far, I'm going to need something to supplement my income.