This one is mostly for the guys, because it’s mostly about razors.  Once in a while I do a little product review here (unpaid, unsolicited), and today looks like a good day to talk about the cheaper variants of the high-end 5+ blade cartridge razors.

So let’s go to shaving world.  There are still a lot of options out there for guys who don’t use electric razors, guys like me who get out their hand-held razors and apply shave foam or gel or “shave butter” and then start scraping away.   (There seems to be something almost spiritual and craftsman-like about shaving by hand, something that you lose in the constant buzz of an electric razor.)  There don’t seem to be any “official statistics” on this, but a popular estimate is that about 25% of shaving men in the US use electrics, meaning that about 3 quarters of us non-bearded guys still use hand-held hedge clippers. 

There are various options for us manual shavers. You can still buy the old fashioned 2-edge “safety razor”; the blades are cheap and you get a close shave, but it’s also very easy to nick your face.  If you’re even more old-fashioned and are not squeamish about blood, you can still buy a “straight razor”, like the ones that some barbers still use (recall the strap on the side of the barber’s chair where the razor is stroked, so as to put a sharp edge on it). But unless you have the skills of a barber, it’s probably best not to mess with a straight. And then there are also disposable hand-held razors, but the handles are cheaply made and not all that comfortable and easy to control. From my perspective,  »  continue reading …

Today I’m going to take a break from my usual attempts to grasp at issues of cosmic significance [mostly unsuccessfully]. I’m going to get down to some nitty gritty, for a change. Today I’m going to talk about fruit flies, and what to do when they infest your home. I’ve been dealing with these nasty little buggers for the past 3 or 4 years now, without much luck in reducing their hordes. In the winter they slack off somewhat, but summer is a halcyon time for the fruit fly nation. Once they take root in your home, you can look forward to constantly seeing them buzzing around you, oblivious to your futile swats (they are amazingly fast and agile fliers). And even if you do get lucky and managed to squash one, there are hundreds or thousands left out there, all working towards the ultimate fruit fly destiny of world domination. (What was especially unsettling was when I would look at the ceiling above my bed just before I turned out the light; it was often speckled with waiting fruit flies, obviously lying in wait as to make a meal out of my own flesh and blood!) I was ready to give in to despair, as I didn’t want to take radical measures like smogging my apartment with some really noxious poison spray, or paying an exterminating service to do that.

But over the past few months I’ve made progress in at least keeping this vermin community under control. It’s almost mid-July and we’re into the hottest part of summer; and yet, I’ve only been seeing a handful of these critters lately (and I haven’t seen the nocturnal ceiling congregation so far this year). So here’s what I can tell you about fruit flies and keeping them in check.

There seem to be web sites dedicated to almost everything these days, and fruit files are no exception. Not surprisingly, the fruit fly site is called www.fruitflies.org. It is a good place to start, in order to get to know your enemy. Fruit files are sexual creatures, as they  »  continue reading …

Just before Christmas, I got a card from a guy who I worked with at my first professional job after graduating from college. That was way back in the 1970s. The guy in question, Charlie Spencer, was quite a bit older than me. Actually, he was the same age as my mother. And he came from the back woods of Pennsylvania, quite different from the urbanized realms of northern New Jersey from which I hailed. And yet, despite the age and cultural differences, we got along quite well during the time we worked together.

Charlie and I teamed up on a number of productivity improvement projects, and during the breaks we talked a lot about our lives and interests and viewpoints. We were actually friends. Despite being as old as my own parents, and having a son of his own, Charlie never treated me “like a son”. And that was a good thing, in my book. I didn’t need another parent; but as an introvert living in a new town, I did need another friend. And Charlie was able to do that; he was able to put his own age on hold, and also the realization that he knew more than I did about life and how things really work. (Now that I’m just about the age that Charlie was when we met, I realize that I know a lot more about life and how things actually work than any 24 year old does; and I also know that in another 30 years, those 24 year olds will figure this out for themselves). In working with Charlie, I started to see that he had something that I didn’t – i.e., this wisdom of old age. He just knew how to get things done with people, even though he didn’t have a college degree like I did. So I learned to respect him and just watch and pick up some tricks from him.

After two and a half years out in the working world, I was able to get into law school back home in New Jersey. So Charlie and I bid each other adieu. Oh, we promised to get together again; I said that I would come down and visit, maybe stay over with him and his wife. But of course I never did. The years went by, the 1980s and the 1990s zoomed along, and Charlie and I pretty much forgot about each other.

But actually, Charlie didn’t forget about me. Sometime in 2000, out of the blue, he called me up. It was good to hear from him. He had retired and was living down in Florida. So we swapped e-mail addresses and he invited me down to Florida for a visit. Unfortunately, my own mother was beginning to falter and would need more and more financial support for her home care. So the years went by and I kept telling Charlie that I hoped to get down to see him; but again it never happened. My brother and I had pretty much agreed that neither of us would make any road trips given my mother’s increasingly frail and unpredictable state; we agreed to respond to anything within an hour or so. Still, I kept Charlie and his Florida home on my list of places to go after my mother passes.

Unfortunately, that trip isn’t going to happen. In his card, Charlie said “send me some e-mail”. Actually, I was swapping e-mails with him back around 2002 and 2003, but he started swamping me with those unfortunate “pass this on to everyone you know” e-mails, some of which contained questionable attachments (dangerous to your computer). I started deleting his e-mails and stopped sending my own personal ones because of this, and we lost touch again — other than the annual Christmas cards. But hey, I thought, let me start the e-mail thing again. Charlie had lost his wife back in 2005, and said that he was lonely. So sure, I attached some pix of myself and my mother and brother and shot them down to him. About 10 days later, I saw a reply from his address. But instead of what I expected (“thanks for the pictures, glad to see what you look like today, etc.”), the message said “this is from Charlie’s son and his computer teacher Steve; sorry, but the bad news is that Charlie passed away on New Years Eve. He took a nap during the afternoon and never woke up …”

Now I feel an emptiness, and I’m sad about not putting more energy into staying in touch with Charlie. I don’t even have a picture of him. With certain people, they come and go through your life and you take it in stride. But with a special few, it’s like an iceberg; their significance to you is very real but is well hidden. You’re not fully conscious of what they mean to your life until they’re gone. As with my late Uncle Bruno. And as much as I respect her, I don’t stay up nights thinking about my ex-wife; but I’m still a bit hung up on the memory of a girl in high school who tried to get past my Asperger’s-like barriers to make contact with the super-nerdy kid that I was (and still am, in various respects). Well, she never did get past my immature suspicions and fears, and I haven’t seen nor heard any references to her in the 37 years since I graduated from high school (not even Google or classmates.com have helped; but that’s probably just as well). Even now, though, I still think of her. As with Uncle Bruno. And now, Charlie Spencer.

So watch out for those “iceberg” people in your life. Do what the Titanic did, even though it shouldn’t have; get close to them and keep close. Real icebergs will sink ships, but relationship icebergs are good for the soul.