the navel times and observer

I've got a beard.

Not the Paul Bunyan 40-days-in-the-wilderness-on-locusts-and-honey beard that our friend John would have had coming back home, but certainly one that grew ... on most of my face.

Which is why I paid someone money yesterday to take a stab at sculpting it into something that doesn't look quite so Ted Kazinsky-like. It's got 2 lines that stretch from my awesome sideburns down the very lower edge of my cheeks to pool together underneath my chin. Topped off with a flavor saver and a moustach and it's pretty dern' classy.

Job up-date: Still scared for my job. I make dumb errors or leave things out and get called on them later and I am -- surprise, surprise -- probably being a little hard on myself. But not unreasonably so. After all, I'm paid to do a job.

It's also very hard to find stories during the holidays. People simply aren't doing anything. Schools let out last Friday, offices just sort of mull over last year's business and clear out the inventory for next year and we're left standing out there in the cold with a newspaper we have to put out every day with at least the resemblance of local coverage. It was hard this week to put that thing together. I really don't even want to think of having to try to pull stories out of the dirt on the ground for four days next week. Sigh.

Somebody shoot somebody, anybody. Just make sure it's in my beat and between 9:30 a.m. and 5:30 p.m. And call me before you do. I'll want a statement.