Update On A Close Shave

It arrived.  My order from Harry's.com arrived yesterday afternoon.  I opened the box, and surveyed my new shaver, and blades.  I took it all in.  The understated packaging, the color of the razor holder with its wooden finial at the end, and how it did not look like a Gillette anything.  Then, I proceeded to shave.

I won't tell you that these blades that I wrote about a few days ago gave me the smoothest shave without any pulling, or tugging that I have ever had.  I won't tell you that.

Two boxes of four razors for $15, and a holder, $15.00.  Good bye, Gillette.

I won't tell you that during my entire shave I never once felt the razor touch my skin.  My face was becoming devoid of whiskers with each pass of the razor, and the only way I knew I was shaving was because I watching myself in the mirror.

No, I won't tell you any of that.  If I told you that you would suspect I was on Harry's payroll, and that no way was it the best shave I have ever had.

No, I won't tell you any of that, but I'm not on the payroll, and it was.

A Local Conspiracy Of The Very Good Kind

On Friday evening Mary kept it local, and it was the very best it could ever be.

You have to be very good in order to catch me off guard.  I can smell out a surprise coming from a mile away. I am a keen observer, I even get paid for that skill.

Yep, as the old adage says, you have to get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on me. Yeah, pretty darn early, but Mary apparently didn't go to bed the night before, and she easily put one over on me.

Sometimes we are just not meant to know what others are up to especially when it has to do with  surprise parties.

About a week ago Mary asked me out on a date.  It's restaurant week in town, and she wanted to experience Avellino's again.  We've eaten there in the past, and I asked her if she wanted to try the new menu at the Cedar Street Grill instead.  No, it had to be Avelinno's, they had just remodeled their dining room, and bumped it our onto the old portico, and surrounded it with beautiful glass windows.

No, it just had to be Avellino's, she said.  She was adamant, and I was clueless.

Friday came without any fanfare.  Mary was off that day, and so was I.  Work sent me a text, and asked if I could come in and work extra, but I had a date, and they understood.  Dates take priority.

Mary and Jenny got dressed, and I was cautioned about not wearing jeans.  We were going to Avellino's, not the Duck.  We had to look as though we belonged.  Those two would have no problem.  They looked beyond great.  Me, on the other hand, well, I try.

We parked on the new parking lot across from the Cumberland Farms, and walked down the stairs to the restaurant.  Usually we will meander upstairs to the Duck in our jeans, but this time we stood at the podium. Mary had made reservations.  I like it when she takes charge.

A young lady escorted us into the newly redone front room, and I walked in.  There in the room were a bunch of smiling family, all shouting Happy Birthday!!

Cripes.

She had put one over on me.  I had no clue.  My wife had been working on the surprise since January, and she had never let on, or slipped up.  She had the help of a young woman, Dakota,  at Avellino's, .  Together they conspired in secret.  They were CIA worthy, and I was speechless.  Some would consider that a good thing.

I moved about the room greeting everyone, and looking around me taking it all in.  The people, and the room were perfect.

The newly redone room has been remodeled perfectly.  From the opening of the front wall, the new molding which blended seamlessly with the old,  to the extending  the room some six feet, or so, towards the street, and surrounding it with tall wrap around windows.

Mary and I had last enjoyed a meal at Avellino's a few months back with Mary's sister, Joanne, and her husband, Paul.  We sat at the chefs table, and had a fantastic meal prepared for us.  The food was exceptional.  As Mary said that night, "My taste buds are going crazy!", and so were mine, and  they were about to do the same again.

On Friday night, Chef Rico, prepared a meal that blew everyone in the room away.

We began with Garlic Shrimp, Citrus Pear Salad, and Pepperoni  and Sausage Bread,  followed by Tortellini, Prosciutto and Peas.  Those two courses alone left me awestruck.

The third course consisted of Herb Crusted Beef fillets, Glazed Ocean Cod, and a Vegetable Medley.

The amazing birthday cake came from Junes Bake Shop in New Braintree.  The cake was like a 3-D artists canvas depicting an Adirondack chair sitting on the sand at the beach.  The baker took my favorite place, and turned it into a cake.  Large edible shells, and starfish surrounded the cake.  It was almost a shame to cut into it, but after tasting it, I knew it was the very best thing to do.

The evening was the best.  A surprise party in my honor pulled off without a hitch still amazes me. Being in the company of those that I love, and sharing an incredible meal is something I wish everyone could do at least once.

Mary went above, and beyond.

Avellino's accommodated Mary as she planned, rescheduled, and changed rooms at the restaurant. Dakota helped her every bit of the way.  Chef Rico's menu, and meal was beyond words, it was that good.  The cake was something I had never seen before.  It was perfect.

One more thing that sent this evening over the top:  it was all done locally.  The beef came from Brimfield, the cake from New Braintree, and  to the venue itself in Fiskdale; the entire evening was a local event.  No commuting to the city for a world class meal.  No, we traveled a rural mile from house to table.

Thank you Dakota, and Dan, our server.  Thank you to our busboy,  whose name I never did get, and I feel horrible for not asking him. He was very attentive the entire night.  Thank you to Chef Rico, and to all at Avellino's for a marvelous night.

There truly is no place like home, and after last Friday night I have one more amazing reason to to add to the bucket of reasons I already have that say I am glad that our home is in Sturbridge.

Bye bye King Gillette, Hello Harry

It's not that I am cheap.  I'm really not, but I do like to beat whatever the system is in front of me at the time.  In this particular case, it's saving a few bucks on a necessary evil: shaving.  I will try to use the same razor blade for an entire month.  Around the third week, I've been nicked so many times, I leave the house with enough toilet paper bandages on my face that I could be an ad for Charmin.

But I persist.  For a great shave, at $3 plus a piece for blades, Gillette owns my face.  My goal is to get the same great shave for a whole lot less.

I know, there are less expensive blades, but if I buy the ones for the amount I would like to pay they are nothing more than miniature wood planes.  In order to remove the whiskers, they have to remove a lot of skin as well.

This is not a good thing.  I take an aspirin everyday, and as the little TP swatches will atest, I bleed like a geyser.

$3.00, plus change, is the price blades have crept up to.  We have obediently paid it because we were seduced by two blades on one disposable head , then three, four, five, and a trimmer blade.  Some of them vibrate.  Gillette, and the other big names in the shaving game,  are always coming up with some new thing to get me to turn loose of the Jacksons in my wallet in order to continue on with my lifelong quest for the perfect shave.  I'm waiting for Schick to develop a shaving drone that will hover near the ceiling until it senses a need, and then swoop down and remove any sign of facial hair.  My aunts upper lip would live in constant fear.

The other day I stumbled on an online ad for Harry's shaving equipment.  I clicked on the link for Harrys.com,  and was brought to a nice clean web site.  No extraneous nonsense, just a message, and some products.  A sort of clean shaven look.  I was impressed.

I checked out the products they offered.  Shaving kits, razor holders, blades, and shaving creme in a tube.  I read the story of the company, and then searched out reviews of the new company, and its products.

The reviews were very good.  The founders of the company have a great plan.  Again, I was impressed, but what impressed me the most was the quality of the workmanship, and materials offered in their products, AND Harry's offers razor blades for HALF the price that Gillette sells theirs for!

Half.

Imagine, $1.80 a blade.  And, they say their razors will last as long as the big boys razors do.   Well, that did it for me.  I ordered up a razor holder for $15.00, and a pack of eight razors for $15.00, and choose the least expensive shipping: FREE.

The remains of my Gillette Fusion.

The next afternoon, as I was shaving, I was thinking of that brand new razor arriving UPS in a few days, and all the money I would be saving in the coming year.  Suddenly my Gillette Fusion razor broke. 

The head snapped right off.  It lay motionless on the vanity except for the now spastic vibration in the handle.  Then...nothing.  It was gone.

I am not sure if inanimate objects have the power of telepathy, and that this was either lesson being taught to me once it learned of my plans to replace it, or it simply became so distraught that it chose the easy way out.  What ever it was, the timing was eerie.

For the amount of money we men spend on the tools for shaving our faces, one would think that the tools would last forever. They apparently don't.  I think mine just lost its will to go on.

Later in the day I received an email from Harry's stating my new razor was on its way, and should be here soon.  The mourning period for the Gillette was gone!

In the meantime, this guy was going to be without a razor for the weekend, and was thinking, "How sweet",  when Mary tossed me a Lady Schick, and that smile that told me differently. 

(sigh).  So much for being a Neanderthal this weekend.  My wife won't let me.






For more on the expense of shaving, and how it is a rip off, click here.

Ban The Nip

I have always held a "No Interference" position when it comes to folks making decisions that I would not have made myself.  I feel bad, but their life, their decision.

Unless, of course, I was asked.  Then, I give my very best advice, referrals if necessary, and support.

The only other time I will speak up, whether I am asked too, or not, is when their bad decisions begin to affect me, and others.

Driving while impaired is one time I will speak up, or act up, depending on the situation.  I will take your keys if you are unable to drive.  I will hold those keys until a police officer comes, and then hand the entire package to them.  I've done it before, I will always do it, even if I don't know jack about you.  Your decision to drive could kill someone.  You've already decided that your life is not worth it, but the other person did not have a voice.  That's where we all come in.  We are the other persons voice by proxy.

So, when I see a scenario that is becoming increasingly more dangerous, and out of control, I will speak up, and I see one getting worse now.

A new nip found beside my front walk this afternoon.

All year long I pickup empty "nip" bottles from in front of my house.  Little empty bottles of vodka, Jack Daniels, brandy, Seagrams 7, Captain Morgan will litter my front lawn year round.  New bottles sprout over night as if planted the previous day.  I pick them up when I see them.

I have always thought it was a bit bizarre that they appeared on my lawn.  Why?  Well, the reason is that the package store down the street has a fishbowl of nips set up on the checkout counter as a point of sale feature.  Much like the candy offered in the check out line at Stop & Shop, the nips are offered for the convenience of those wanting to toss back a few before getting home for the day.

That is the only purpose of a nip bottle.  People don't buy nips to stockpile at home.  People buy nips to suck down, and toss.

They purchase one or more, go out to their car, and by the time they have headed north on Route 148 two tenths of a mile, the bottle is empty, and planted on my lawn.

Littering I expect.  I don't like it, but I live on a state road.  It's going to happen.  Drinking, and driving I expect as well, but making it convenient to do so, is something I don't want to see happen.

I would like to see nip bottles banned in town.

There I said it.  Boy, that's going to tick a few people off, but the neat thing is most won't say a word. It'd look bad.

They serve no purpose other than what I mentioned above.  People don't go to the liquor store, and stock on tiny bottles of liquor.  Unless, of course, they are the size of a smurf, and it's going to last the month.

If you want to be a grownup, and have a grownup cocktail, then buy a fifth of your favorite spirit, bring it home, and open it there.  The nip bottle may have served a function at one time, in a different era with a different mindset.  It is irrelevant today.

One of our living room chairs is about 15 feet from the road.  I never want to meet you while I am sitting in that chair. 

I am offering this up to those at the helm of our town.  I would like to see some conversation at the town hall about ridding the town of this useless, and potentially dangerous item.

I know.  I sound like some cranky old curmudgeon one step away from yelling, "You kids get off of my lawn!", but think about it.

The nip bottle serves what purpose? 

Placing a couple of dozen of them in a fishbowl at the register says what? 

Maybe it's me.  Maybe I just am tired of some people risking the safety, and lives of others for no reason.

But, that's how we curmudgeons roll.  Now, get off of my lawn.

Witnessing A Well Taught Moment

I admire those that when something needs to be said, they can say it very effectively, but in a totally unexpected, and for that moment, a better way.  Sometimes it is the person that has the snappy comeback for some off kilter comment, a child that is called on to say grace for the first time, and nails it by rapping his blessing,  or grandpa offering a limerick toast at the wedding reception without mentioning Nantucket.

All unexpected, and can be very well done.

The other day, I saw an other example here in town.  We were driving east on Route 20, and came to a red light at the junction with Route 131.  We were in the right lane, and a motorcycle was in the left lane.  The light changed, and we all advanced to the next light some 150 feet away, and waited again.

We are used to waiting twice, some aren't, and have a feel they have a duty to make up for lost time.  The motorcycle felt that way, and when the light turned green, the rider leaned forward on his bike as he began clicking through the gears. We were neck and neck for about three to four seconds, then he was far ahead.  Far ahead until he came up to the Massachusetts State Police barracks on 20 just as a State Police cruise was pulling out onto the road.  They came up beside each other at precisely the same moment.

Now, what happened next was remarkable.

What words the motorcycle rider was uttering at that exact moment are lost to the wind, but I think I know what they may have been.  The motorcycle slowed.  The cruiser slowed to the speed limit, and the motorcycle slowed further until they had matched speeds at the posted speed limit like earth bound Blue Angels.

And, there they stayed.  Together, side by side, the cruiser setting the pace, and the motorcycle not daring to slice the wind any faster.  The action was subtle, but the act was not, and was received, and understood by the motorcyclist immediately.

They rode together under I-84, and further eastbound on Route 20.  Although we were a few car lengths behind them, we understood the message as well.  The trooper was teaching without ticketing, and his lesson was being very effective.  The motorcyclist was sitting more upright on his bike, not leaning in to the wind as he had been, a sign that he understood, and was complying.

At the XtraMart, the cruiser turned into the driveway, and the motorcyclist continued on.  He remained at the same speed he had paced with the trooper.  I know what words he mouthed when the cruiser turned off:  Thank you.

The State trooper had decided to be teacher a few minutes before, and taught a lesson about obeying the posted speed limit, but not by pulling the motorcyclist over, and writing out a citation.  He instead chose a better way.  He demonstrated that the speed limit was not only for the civilian motorists, but for him as well.  Demonstrations can be much more effective than bookwork.   And, when the lesson had been taught, and the teacher felt coinfident that it had been understood, he allowed the student to take the lesson home.

We followed the motorcycle further up Route 20, and into Hobbs Brook Plaza.  At no time did his speed reach beyond the posted speed.

Obviously, the lesson was taught well, and learned.  The next step may be the hardest, and that's retention.  I hope it is retained.  Not many homework assignments can actually save ones life.  This one can.