We were sitting at the dinner table. My dad has always intrigued me as to how he is able to consume his meal with such facial hair. Not that his facial hair is normally out of control, but consuming food with facial of any kind seems quite a feat to me. But on this particular night I was distracted more so than other nights. His mustache had grown out unevenly and the hairs on his chin seemed to grasp at my meal. When he talked his mustache danced up and down pausing for a quick break every now and then. So, I offered my services. My hair cutting scissors have been neglected as I have been letting my hair grow long and wild. They sit collecting the usual bits of bathroom dust: tissue fibers, hairspray, toothpaste. They come out about once a month to trim Grandma's locks, but other than that short trip, they remain unused. I do feel bad. But on this night I felt my duty was to pull out the ole' scissor friends and trim up Dad's wavy facial locks. Nobody but my grandma and dad let me near them with the scissors; not since Ashleigh's makeover. So, here is my handy work with the shears:


before


and after





And... the progress on my sweater (and Violet's paw):



I'm rinky-dinking it up with some spacers. I've seen this effect a few times before, but I haven't felt the need or desire to actually seek out how it is done. So, I came up with my own solution. Spacers. We'll see how this develops.