6-4-08 Shaving

I am surprised each morning to find the wide-eyed, slightly moon-y looking fellow in the mirror with the shadow of beard on his face, and he, in his turn, seems perplexed at me finding him here. His questioning eyes watch me warily while I spread white, foamy lather across my chin, until he relaxes into the ritual, and together, we scrape yesterday's growth of hair off my face.

I cannot remember standing beside my father, as the Norman Rockwell-style image might suggest (adorable scamp in wife-beater t-shirt, face covered in shaving cream, peeks from the corner of his eye to see how father, similarly attired, shaves, so passing down the ritual from father to son, ever-thus), while he taught me how to shave. I cannot remember ever doing this, and yet I must have, for here I stand, towel around my waist, stroking my newly shorn chin, thinking of my father, thinking about how we learn to live.

3-7-08 Settling In

Katie gave me a wonderful gift last night: sandalwood shaving cream. Some people don't care for it, but I find the act of shaving to be wonderfully meditative, and requiring a certain level of skill, which allows me to step outside my usual chattering thoughts in the morning and just DO something for a change. I recently began shaving with my grandfather's old double-edged safety razor, and though it requires a little more concentration, it gives me a much closer shave than I've ever gotten with a cartridge razor.

Even though I've heard that "wet shaving" (i.e. shaving with a double-edge or straight razor, brushes and cups, and using wet cream rather than the stuff out of the can, etc.) is a new trend or something, I don't mind being part of a trend (even though I normally find it abhorrent), and am looking forward to the time when people are brushing their teeth using silver-handled, boars-hair toothbrushes and debating online the merits of various forms of high-grade, high-end toothpastes.