wasted guilt
impertinence
bare(faced) necessities
As time goes on and more stores limit their offerings in the men’s grooming section, I have an increasingly difficult time finding a few items vital to my shaving success. One of those things is my preferred shave gel from King of Shaves (pictured, behind my favorite safety razor). The other two essential components I still haven’t found are high quality, platinum-coated blade refills and styptic pencils.
The King of Shaves gel I found by dumb luck (and really, is there any other kind?) while stopping in at the local Target for socks. It’s the sensitive skin formula with cooling menthol, and it’s the only variety of shave gel that makes me truly happy. The platinum-coated blades and styptic pencils have proven much more difficult to locate, so I finally resorted to purchasing them online yesterday. Now, I wait.
breaking space
connectivity
On my way to dispense birthday wishes the other day, I walked by the Church of the Holy Trinity on Rittenhouse Square. That’s where I saw this sign. It struck me as an interesting outreach idea. It’s almost like a homeless mission, except with a different target demographic — come for the wi-fi, stay for the sermon. I don’t know how well it works, but I give them points for being clever.
And speaking of connectivity, I was pleased to see several folks I know from the virtual world at Frank’s birthday gathering. Some of them were previously known to me, some I met for the first time in the real world.
One of the previously known people was Albert Yee, a gifted photographer and friend whose work I’m pleased to have on display at home. One of the first time encounters was Laura Kicey, another person whose photography I’ve admired for some time. It’s always nice to make a real world connection every once in a while. And it’s also nice to run into a few of those connections on occasion.
xxiii
with no guarantee,
life belongs to those who see
each day’s potential
*
I made a trek to center city yesterday to dispense early birthday wishes to Frank. While in route on the Schuylkill Expressway, the above haiku started to form in my head. After parking, I stopped in Rittenhouse Square to scribble it on a sheet of paper in my pocket, along with a slight note for Frank. In honor of the occasion, I wanted him to have the only handwritten copy.
The above haiku struck me as a pretty good toast to a man who certainly gets the most out of his days. Here’s hoping today (his actual birthday) is no exception. Happy birthday, Frank!
secondhand haiku: zero sum
The scribbled and borrowed haiku continue at long last. We send you to your weekend with one from “Writer X” — in other words, someone wishing to remain anonymous.
To check out the other secondhand contributions to date, just click here. If you think you might like to join in, you’d be welcome to send a contribution of your own.
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