* * *

Here I sit actually writing this column on the above date -- as opposed to being a day or two late -- contemplating the fact that I have to go to church tomorrow morning, Easter Sunday. The worst part of this is that this means that I have to shave.

It's been nearly a week since I last shaved, and two or three years since the time before that. The task which lays before me is not to be taken lightly; my whiskers grow thick and will take two blades to produce a good shave without too much pain.

For most of the '80's and into the '90's, I wore a beard starting with the fall season and remained masked by facial hair through the winter months. Each year I would shave it off on the first day of spring. It was a yearly ritual which I had maintained for about ten years or so -- although not always precisely in conjunction with either equinox -- and ended with a gift from my wife.

The main reason for this routine was that I hated shaving every day and trimming my beard was almost as much a chore as shaving. I would make an effort but the annual clear-cut was the only way to keep it looking somewhat neat. And of course summers are much more comfortable when clean-shaven. This way, at least I got a break from the razor for the winter.

About three years ago, Julie got for me as a gift a beard- trimmer. Just like the clipper my dad used on me each summer as I was growing up to administer my annual military-style buzz-cut, this thing worked great. Trimming my beard was now easy. The hardest part now was sweeping up the clippings.

Since beard trimming was now an easy weekly task and even a badly out of control beard could be tamed in no time at all, plus the fact that I was working 60 to 70 hours per week in an air-conditioned building, there was no longer an incentive for me to shave. Until last week, I've been wearing the beard year-round.

Three days after the vernal equinox, now almost a week ago, I once again slapped after-shave lotion on my bare face. And now, I remember why I stopped shaving altogether in the first place.

Shaving sucks!

The one fun part of all of this is in the reactions of the people around me -- some of whom have never seen my face before.

The guy that picks up the trash from the data center each evening not only noticed the obvious but even noticed my new shoes. My supervisor on the other hand, didn't say a thing. Still others just stared muttering "wow," and "I don't even recognize you." My neighbor Trog heard about it and came over just to see my face. One friend, calling me a "geek", offended Julie with his poor choice-of-words while amusing me with his strong reaction upon my entrance.

Tomorrow morning at church, Julie's family will see my face for the first time since my sheering and I'm sure that I'll hear some more reactions regarding my drastic change in appearance at breakfast. Besides my face becoming a conversational-piece, it makes it easier to keep my face clean while eating my Eggs Benedict. (At least I hope they have Eggs Benedict.)

Next week all will return to normal as people grow accustomed to my radical transfiguration.

And I will be bound by my own tradition to keep shaving until the autumnal equinox ... maybe.

Happy Easter!