The beginning of the end?

Today was a turning point.

It started out like most days. I woke up early and went to the gym. In the winter, I might wear capris or sweat pants, but when it’s hot out, I wear shorts. Like today.

I worked out with my trainer, Cyrus, today. He challenges me on most days. Today, even more than usual. I was feeling very inadequate and very on the edge of tears when I realized (during an exercise that was not very ladylike, I might add) that I’d missed a few choice spots when I shaved last night.

Well, I can tell you that I used special shave cream and really took my time shaving. This time. Usually, I rush through with a bar of soap and an old razor. But this was my new special 5 blade razor that I got free in the mail and my girly gel. So it should be great, yes? Plus, I distinctly remember that the hot water was particularly nice and I stayed in there longer than usual.

And yet, I missed some serious hair.

I swear.

I

didn’t

see

it.

There. I’ve said it. But now, what am I going to do? I can only think of one solution.

Wear my reading glasses in the shower.

Yikes. Is this the beginning of the end?

Father’s day or What’s Behind Door No. 3?

Hey there. I’ve asked Andrew to contribute a post in honor of my favorite June Hallmark holiday. So please allow me to introduce today’s guest post….

I had a great day Sunday. And while I’m usually treated like a king here, yesterday was one of the better ones: brunch at Parker’s Bistro, strawberry picking at Larriland Farms, and one of the season’s first visits to the pool.But the highlight were the hand crafted gifts from the kids, and cards, and two wonderful things from W.

The first a great book on one of my other loves, BMW motorcycles. I can’t wait to read it.

But the second is even more special.

I was handed a wrapped package, a box about 14″ x 8″, maybe 2″ thick, and substantial. Not heavy, but not a shirt.

And I was told something like “you’ll enjoy constructing this”.

So I shook the box and heard some metallic sounds. Couldn’t be a jigsaw puzzle, how about an Erector Set?

Silence

And Wendy says

wait for it

wait

How did you know?

It seems that she and the boys had been out running around, stopped at a garage sale and saw this vintage set. Not perfect, but in really fine shape. So they had to get for me as a surprise.

I had no idea of what they had done, and I’m not really sure how I guessed it. I had an Erector set when younger (get your mind out of the gutter), but hadn’t really thought about it in years. And while the kids have several different sets of toys they can build with, no Erector set.

So how did I know?

I’m not sure but I’m really looking forward to playing with my new toy.

Let it out.

There is something that has been on my mind for a long time now. It has me confused and disappointed and, yes, a little sad. Thought I must admit, part of me is in awe.

Maybe I need to elaborate.

Foam soap.

Haven’t you noticed that in most (and I do mean most) public restrooms these days, you find foamy soap in the soap dispenser. Well, I don’t know about you, but I think the stuff is wretched. (I always wanted to use that word. I feel so continental.)

But, anyway.

I do not like foamy soap. I don’t like it in a boat and I don’t like it with a goat. I do not like foamy soap.

Whew. I actually feel a little better already.

There are several problems for me.

1) texture
2) perception of cleanliness
3) fragrance
4) economy

I’ll take each on its own.

First, texture. It does not feel like I’m washing with “real” soap. It feels like fluffy whipped cream or hair mousse. It just bothers me.

Next. Perception of cleanliness. Who would think washing your hands with whipped cream would make them clean. I’m just saying.

Fragrance. Okay, true confessions time. Please don’t hold this against me and if you know me IRL, please don’t stare at me when I return from the restroom. I smell my hands after I wash them. Okay, stop laughing. It’s not my fault. Have you ever met my father? And besides, anyone who cares as much as I do about the scent of bleach and the smell of her sheets clearly has olfactory issues and even a possible case of Phantosmia at times.

So this foamy soap is lacking in nice soapy fragrance. I said it. So shoot me.

Finally, economy. If I’m in a fancy, schmancy restaurant – say Minibar and I go to the ladies room between courses (and flights of wine) and I go to wash my hands, (is this a good time to talk about all those women who don’t wash after… anyway, I digress.) and the soap is that icky foamy stuff.

It makes me wonder. Just how much more would they need to charge for my 30 course teensy taste menu dinner to afford real, creamy soap? An extra buck? I’m all for it. And the whole thing is totally false economy, if you ask me anyway, since you need a lot more water to rinse that stuff off. Ick.

So here’s where I’m in awe.

To whomever sold this foam soap into every fricking place in the U.S. of A., I salute you. I don’t know how you did it. You took a seriously inferior product and you convinced restaurant owner after restaurant owner and mall after mall and, well you get the picture, everyone to buy this stuff. To get new dispensers put on your walls. And to buy refills until the cows come home.

My hat (figuratively, as I don’t wear hats) is off to you.

And that, is my rant for today.