The Beard

Beards.  A Poogie pictoral history. 

Follow me, won't you?

Ambrose Burnside (he was a Hoosier, BTW) - his beard was so good, they named sideburns after him.



The only symphony conductor who can't score with the chicks.



Who said this was a man's game?

The author of the Gettysburg Address and the Chin Strap.

Did you know that Colonel Sanders is responsible for that stupid looking metrosexual, sliver beard and artherosclerosis?

Longaberger's new spokesperson.

El Comandante - makes Cuban beard and dental hygiene look like, well, Cuba.

Somewhere, his mother weeps -- silently.

Shock and awe that's such a ratty looking beard, but a Poogie-favorite beard nonetheless.

The inspirational, societal indifference beard.

Why the painful look at beards?

Well, there are roughly fifteen days and counting before I retire the latest installment of the third trimester sympathy beard.  I thought it might be appropriate self-aggrandizing to spend the remainder of this odd post dedicated to my freakish looking, felon's beard.

Let's celebrate us some facial hair, shall we?

Body temperature 98.6 degrees -- 100.4 degrees with the beard.

I was going for pensive here.  I think we managed to do the opposite. 

My mug shot.

Beards can have parental obligations.

Beards can also repent.

 December 10th can't get here fast enough.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Henry is a Baller

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The Fire Dance

Henry was surrounded by frenzied female fans (we call that alliteration) at last night's Bob/Helen Marriage Redux (a good time, BTW).

Unfortunately for them, Henry did not give in to the requests to show off his fire dance.

In the video below, you will see why. 

He needs ten feet of space and somewhere to throw his shirt. 



Please note that Henry is not responsible for female fainting spells as a result of the above.

The Quick Recap

Yeah, I know.  We haven't been keeping up our end of the blog bargain here in Poogieville. 

Relax.

Here's the quick recap:

1.  We went back to Terre Haute a few weeks ago.  Saw a quarter and change of a South football game.  They lost.  Ate Taco Casita carry-out served by a 1993 THS grad.  Didn't know who had it better.  Did the 'Stube and lost.  Bought clothes at Roots (yeah, I know it's Macy's for you, but not for me).  Crushed nuts at Dobbs Park.   

No, I'm not going to explain that.

2.  We carved pumpkins.

3.  We did Year 3 of the Fungo with the neighbor, my dad, and my brothers.  I did not break my Moob this year.

4.  We celebrated CP3's 5th birthday.

5.  We trick-or-treated.

That's all I can comment on.  There's a bigger issue in the Holman house these days.

We're staring at T-minus one month and counting until another large-headed, Holman boy will grace the world's maternity ward.  Trying to juggle two girls sleeping together in a twin bed, potty training Joey, dealing with Henry "the Human Rain Delay" Holman, wading through multiple CP3 meltdowns and heading into the busy holiday season is tough work.

Erica is doing remarkably well.

Me?  I'm getting a kick out of the curious onlookers when we go to restaurants.  Three kids under 7.  A wife who is ready to pop.  Me with my sloppy, convicted felon's beard.

Guess which one does not go with the others? 

Anyway, here's what you've been missing. 

Joey (Ariel), Henry (the Ninja), and Caroline (as Erica...I mean as a cheerleader)



Caroline's well-attended 5th birthday jam.



Even Gandolf made it for Caroline's party.

Will, these are two of your four namesakes.  I know you have your work cut out for you.

Caroline's birthday cake.  FB Erica for the details.

Is it really their pumpkin if someone else risks digits and sanity to carve it?