Stuart Two Ways.

Alright, my friends.

If you've been following me for the many years I have had this blog (alright, six months, but who's really counting...) you know a few things about me:

a.  I love bovines.
b.  I have a baby.
c.  Coffee makes me giddy.
d.  I pretend to be efficient and organized.

- and last but not least -

e.  I love bearded men.

Actually, let me rephrase that.  I love A bearded man.  His name is Stuart and he is my devilishly delicious husband.  Here is he:

...yep, that's him.  Sigh. 

However, much to my dismay, I came home yesterday to find this:

A stranger in our home.  In fact, I didn't even know it was Stuart until I saw all the hair left in the bathroom sink.  It tipped me off to the fact that someone had done some grooming... and we all know that I only shave my legs about once a year, so it surely wasn't me!

I kid.  

It's twice a year.

Now don't get me wrong, I think my husband is devilishly delicious without a beard as well.  I mean, frankly, he can't go wrong. Those almond green eyes, curly brown hair, beautiful teeth and long eye lashes.  Sigh.  *Pitter, patter of my heart* Okay, I'll stop.  I promise.

But seriously.  He's hot.

Okay, really.  I'm stopping.

I already miss the beard.  I can't help it!  It must be its rough, burly, mountain man appeal.  Like the kind of a man who is going to love you, and squeeze you, and then go chop down a tree with an axe. 

Yeah, I dig that!

So the question is this my friends:

To beard?  Or not to beard? 

What's your vote?