Warm and fuzzy

It's beard time in the Trinko household.
With the birth of our daughter, I was able to take two and a half weeks off from work. History has shown that in two and a half weeks, I can grow a pretty full beard. So I'm doing what I can.
I've had a beard, by my count, five times before since I turned 18. The first three were in college, as I discovered what worked and what didn't. The other two were pretty long-lived ones, including one I had for nearly two years during my first tour of duty in Lima and one I grew at the end of the Savannah tenure that endured perhaps two years into my Virginia time.
Truth be told, I've probably had a beard as often as I haven't since I was 18.
There's a wildcard this year, though. I have a wife now, and she's not necessarily sold on it. She tells me it's itchy to kiss, and she's not sure she likes how old it makes me look. I counter that the brownish-red beard detracts from the gray in my sideburns.
I don't know what it is I like about having a beard. It's not that it's overly comfortable or that I'm enamored with the look. Truth be told, it's just laziness. There's something to be said about not shaving in the morning and not having anyone be any wiser about it.
We'll see whether this one survives or not. I heard someone today call it "vacation shadow," and perhaps that's all it will be. Or perhaps I'll never be clean-shaven again. The world may never know.