The MOvember movement has spread around the world, a fundraising and awareness campaign for prostate cancer and men's mental health issues.
Usually men grow their moustaches during the month. We at the Morning Star had a whole 'nuther campaign in mind. To wit: shaving salesman Bruce Rasmussen's moustache OFF.
Bruce has had a fuzzy upper lip for nigh on 40 years. The challenge was conceived, the bounty set ($2,000) and the posters made (we are BIG on posters - no shame or thrown gauntlet goes unnoticed).
Oh, and then we told Bruce that we published the poster in the paper.
He protested mightly, but then rose to the challenge with grace. And then was almost shocked at how quickly the funds flowed in to our coffer.
At the $1,200 mark, the moustache was removed with great pomp and ceremony, right at Bruce's desk:
|Bruce watching Lisa with a slight bit of apprehension.|
|Oh sure, he's laughing now, but things were much more sober when |
she pulled out a safety razor for the other half of the 'stache.
|All done! Looking great ... and yes, that's shock on Bruce's face, glee on Lisa's.|
So many people have told him how much younger he looks, he's now saying he's not going to grow it back. His mom was outraged that we 'made' him do it and threatened that it had best be grown back by Christmas. When she saw the pictures, however, even she changed her mind and one of his sister's sent us a generous donation.
The weather continues mild in the Southern Interior. I took advantage of a nice day last weekend to begin putting up outdoor lights. The trees at the south end of the yard are getting big enough to support some strands of LED lights.
The old-style lights are heavier and so threaded through the fir trees at the north end around our fire pit area.
I used up all the strings of lights we had and went shopping last night after work for a few more ... always a few more.
I get quite agitated by Christmas hoopla and consumerism but can't get enough of Christmas lights. Maybe it's all the years in the long dark winters of the north country.
Talk about Christmas expectations yesterday prompted me to offer my recurrent complaint: for what other child's birth do we whoop it up before the delivery and then stop celebrating the moment the child is born?! The 12 days of Christmas are from birth to Epiphany.
I hate to rag on about it, but every year it bugs just that little bit more.
As I said to a person once (and recounted to the other Brenda yesterday) "If you don't believe in the Child and the birth, then who invited you to the birthday party?"
Grey Cup tomorrow. The 100th and a classic match-up between Calgary and Toronto. That'll put life back into perspective.