One thing led to another and the next thing I know, I woke up with the spoon on the edge of the bed and the empty peanut butter jar on the nightstand. I have no recollection of how the spoon got on the bed nor of eating that much peanut butter. Oh well.
“That purple beard looks stupid,” said one of my young hockey players.” “Are you kidding?” Her brother replied. “That thing’s badass!” I looked down at the little girl and said, “He’s right,” and turned to her brother and said, “You’re ten. Don’t say, ‘badass’.” Yeah, I’m a fifty-one-year-old guy with a purple goatee, or as I prefer to refer to it, the Chin Weasel. I’ve had it eight months now and honestly, the only negative comment I received (out…