Corona Hair Style. . .

Freshly showered and cologned for Mothers' Day 2020, though not shaven. Hey, it's still the weekend.

Well, after almost nine weeks since my last visit to the stylist for a haircut, I finally gave up the ghost and decided to do something about it since I was beginning to look decidedly shaggy, and said stylist's salon won't be open again until the end of May. At the earliest. Late Saturday afternoon, I threw caution to the wind, fired up the recently purchased Wahl Color Pro trimmer, and went to work.

This was on the heels of watching many, many how-to videos from the last couple of years on YouTube. I played it safe and used the #8 guard (slightly longer then 1") plus the tapered right and left guards for around the ears and temples. The Grand Duchess used my small, battery operated trimmer to clean up the nape of my neck and hairline there. It won't win any awards, but it's about on a par with the cuts I got during my fascination with traditional barbershops (Fall '15-Spring '19). At least I managed not to come out looking like Douglas Niedermeyer, ROTC. "What's that??!! A pledge pin on your uniform??!!"

By the way, the photo was taken in my basement office, or as I refer to it Zum Stollenkeller, where I and The Young Master spend a goodly amount of our waking hours. He also has a small desk and play area in the far corner by the steps behind me. I'm at the built-in table where I paint my model soldiers from the War of Austrian Succession and Seven Years War eras in the mid-18th century. I know. I know. I can hear the collective chorus of derision. "What??!! He's already an overly educated, insufferable, elitist snob, and now he admits to painting and collecting toy soldiers? String him up! Tie that scurvy dog to the yardarm!"

I am so ashamed.

--Heinz-Ulrich

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Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan. Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake. J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville. A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended. But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available. In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination. I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall. I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation. Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold. Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario. But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh. Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan. Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt. Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode. However, I was not completely useless yesterday! I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch. The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings, took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific. I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age. As it is, my sister and

Classic Style

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