Worst Shave Of The Year

You know I'm not one to complain - (snorts) - but I probably could have done better with a Norelco today. No, I take that back. But the Wilkinson Sword finally fell, with my Slim set on seven, in a one-pass SAS. I wouldn't consider those parameters a deal-breaker, but I could see my skin reacting in spots to the harshness, and feel the skin moving too much under the blade as well, even as I tried to hold it in place. Stroking WTG afterwards, there were spots where the beard was still palpable. And I'd really have to call it a "half-SAS" shave, because for the last few days, I've been shaving twice a day.

I wanted to know if Erasmic could be helped by oil, but Shave Secret applied as preshave collapsed it almost entirely. On the bright side, it probably isn't too much glycerin hampering its performance.

The only way I could have made this shave worse would have been to use "Chaoying," as I did earlier this week. With the edge suspended too far above the skin, she wouldn't cut, requiring all sorts of extra, high-velocity touchups. The Slim and the Tech felt harsher, but proved to have better range.

Ominous 2017

On New Year's Eve (day) I went looking for materials to make a guinea pig enclosure, and found a pewter shaving mug, presumably issued by Williams in times gone by -- two, in fact, but I left the larger for another lucky recycler, and took the smaller one, which features the Liberty Bell. An auspicious conclusion to 2016, at least.

But nobody else in the house was awake at midnight (well, not until I shook them) and my pizza dough didn't rise today. I guess it's okay. I'm probably the only one who would have appreciated Mariah Carey's performance; we can save the fireworks for another occasion. And we already had a fully cooked ham in the fridge.

I only recently found out that baker's yeast isn't really the authentic way to make bread. (Are you f-ing kidding me?! That's IT! Honey, pack the bags; we're moving to Papua New Guinea.) I'll be ready to cook the smooth, fragrant sourdough whenever it decides to come around, as I start yet again to learn something from the beginning, doggedly trodding another intuitive path back to auld lang syne.