Some of my pumpkin seeds were left in with the "guts" and small pieces, soaking in brackish (sea salted) water for a couple days this year, as we rebounded from the kids' Halloween party. I thought I detected some fermentation going on, when I finally got around to them. The seeds, slow-roasted (below 250F) were awesome, and I still have several pumpkins on for Thanksgiving pie and cosmetics experiments. But I reserved some of this fermented soak water/juice for analysis as well. It is a little harsh for shaving, very dehydrating with with salt, and I suppose "pumpkin peel" enzymes. Ever gotten enzymatic laundry stain remover on your hands? Like that.

So I turned the new weapon on my foot fungus, or yeast, or whatever: foot soaking, then (with a fresh quart) washing my stinky slippers and cheap sneakers. I figured the slippers would be no loss, already decomposing, and the sneakers were poorly-ventilated, super Wal-mart clearance items that I was already avoiding wearing because of the smell. A reasonable person would have just tossed them both, but I gave them an hour of mindful soaking and wringing, first with pumpkin, then boo-boo juice, in the same plastic tub I had my feet in; blotting and rinsing, with a microfiber cloth of the auto detailing type that I use for shaving and bathing; and drying, with a final spritz of Witch Hazel, then setting them upside down on the recently re-activated furnace vents. By noon, they were pretty much totally dry, and smelling wearable again, but hardly odorless. The best I could do was to coat my feet in coconut oil, then wipe my hands on the shoe tongue and ankle.

Now they smell like some kind of pumpkin bread, but I really have to put my nose right up to the mouth of the shoe to pick it up. And even if I don't succeed in salvaging the footwear in the long run, I've given my feet a rubefacient, exfoliating and deep cleansing treatment, that just might bring the fungus wars to an ultimate conclusion.

Truly Classic Shaving

Meanwhile, the Wilkinson Sword has made its way in middle age to the Travel Tech, where it delivers perfectly velvety smooth shaves with nothing but Barbasol, just whisking hair away off the face without getting the edge and skin involved with each other.

I don't know how the hell cartridges ever caught on, in a world containing Skin Bracer. It takes this kind of gear, a coat of alum, and a gob of moisturizer mixed in for me to get any less than an outright burning sensation -- which I still wipe off and soak with a cold cloth!

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