Day 460: Tick War Proclamation
Blaze is asleep in his crib right now. I put him down at 9pm, which we tonight decided would be the limit, and after a bit of initial shenanigans, involving more shrieking and general unpleasantness, he settled and passed out. Oh sure, occasionally he wakes up and whacks his head off the side of the crib, eliciting a yelp and groan from Jeannette, who can't get used to watching him bounce his body off the unforgiving objects in the house. Even though it's not been long, I'm already pretty used to it and don't get too troubled when I hear the loud thud on the monitor. Though I will admit that some of them are a little unsettling.
One wonders if he's actually asleep, or just adrift in a fog of post concussion symptoms.
Jeannette seems quite happy to have her evenings to herself again. I'm trying everything I can to keep her happy so that she will, in turn, allow me to keep my beard. Look, she's pregnant, we've got Blaze, I'm working on an obscenely difficult memory system -not to mention my other projects, none of which require me to leave the house at all- it seems to me this is the perfect time to keep this ridiculous excuse for facial hair going.
The point was to see how the red beard would work out with the long hair, so given that, and the fact I'm not yet satisfied that I know what that could look like, were I to give my youthful face the time it needs to churn out 'that which is not natural to it'. As such, I have yet to hear an argument as to why I shouldn't continue. It's not like its getting in the way of work at all; I have yet to struggle on the keyboard because my tendrils of facial hair are getting twirled and twisted up with my fingers.
I'll be my grandfather's age before that were to become a concern.
Oh, she wants it off she does, the beard, I know this. And no doubt most of my family does as well. I've heard all the calls for a razor and shears, though they don't do much to sway me either way. My mother, who is usually the first one to raise the conch, recently stated her support for the growth, telling me I was doing what was, in the words of Pharrell from the Voice, the equivalent to rocking my authentic self. She might not have said 'rocking it' exactly, but she did quote Pharrell. So yes, my mother has my back, if only until Jeannette says... pretty much anything at all to her in an attempt to get her support. They're becoming quite tight those two.
Jeannette for her part has agreed to a tentative stalemate with regard to the beard, likely on condition that I continue to keep her satisfied, which I am trying VERY hard to do; note the road trip to Ottawa coming up... etc.
To make the situation somewhat more interesting I will propose something to her, here in the blog, that I haven't yet mentioned at all in person; and that is that I will declare right here and now, receiving inspiration from the two sons of one of my other cousins, who themselves did this very thing quite recently.., to SHAVE my beard AND my head...both of them... completely off... and Jeannette can do it herself if she wants; we'll tape it for posterity and humiliation.. and I will do this terribly conceived deed on one occasion and one occasion only, and that is if and when a tick manages to get past my impenetrable defences and penetrate my skin.
That's right priminions! Pentration! Attachment! If there is a tick on this mountain that manages to get past my clothes, somehow chloroform me (the only way they'll dull my ninja sharp bodily senses sufficiently to do such a thing) and bite into my skin, I will immediately submit my skull to Jeannette, to do with as she wants, with as many witnesses as she wants in attendance to mark the occasion.
I dialled it back a tad there, not forcing her to shave me bald outright, as that might be a worse situation for her than it would be for me, considering the fact she's the one going to be looking at me all the time. But I would hope, in the interests of this rather daring declaration -and after having been bitten herself, and then been forced to listen to me brag about how that could never happen to me- she might reconsider and allow this to happen the way it should. Which is all out, balls to the walls (whatever that actually means)
That's right, "should".
I talk a big game my friends, and as such, were I to succumb to the fate that countless others, family members and otherwise included, have succumbed to over the course of this tick infestation the past few summers I should receive the ultimate fate.
My mother's had one in her. Jeannette. My nephews. Cousins.
And Hubble is now up to 78, with 6 more today.
This is no certain outcome whatsoever. I'm stepping into very dangerous ground here, with a foe that is not well understood, is running rampant all over this mountain, and even more difficult to protect yourself from. And yet, due to Jeannette's continual complaint and prodding regarding the beard especially, if not the hair, I do recognize it might be time for a change and am thus ready to do something bold and drastic.
Therefore I will let the fates themselves decide, and yet not completely leave myself without some control in the matter; pitting my tried and tested body against the current threat in our environment, a tiny, parasitic shit head that seems determined to take over this province. Not rolling the dice in my opinion, however given the statistics, no doubt a roll of the dice regardless.
So there you go, that should make the rest of the summer pretty interesting.
I have to do something to get the blood going, as it looks like I won't get to partake in the idea I had to free up some more of Jeannette's time, get in shape, listen to lectures, AND get Blaze out in the fresh air. The bike/baby seat combo that I may or may not have mentioned yesterday, isn't going to happen at this point. We went looking today, with the rather grim pickings in the Greenwood area, and did manage to find a pretty decent bike on for a very good price. It was a little later on, when Jeannette went online, that we found out he's too young for bike rides at this point.
Well, that's where it currently stands anyway, unless one of my readers can email me and let me know otherwise; (email@example.com) before I find out from some other inquiry. They say a baby's bone density isn't sufficient enough to support the jostling from a bike ride. Seems reasonable I suppose; especially with our rough, mountain, dirt roads. Though according to the sounds coming pretty consistently from the monitor, as Blaze tests his own skull density on the hard wood of his bed, that might be a debatable point.
No matter. I tried to figure out a solution but it just wasn't to be. I suppose I'll just have to be fat for another summer! I've got the beard and hair to go with it, I may as well just pull the anchor up and go full Lebowski.