A Shaving Account

It's winter, so I shave my legs on an as needed basis, which is basically hardly ever. But I am stocking up on shaving cream, and, no, it's not in anticipation of my menopausal beard.

There are two important lessons I have learned recently. Well three, actually. First, you can get answers to most of the great mysteries of life from Google. Second, you can get out the nastiest red wine stains with shaving cream. And, last but certainly not least, somebody watches over me from time to time.

The Google revelation is certainly not new, but I still marvel at the availability of all sorts of information with the mere tap of a key. Oh, how I used to hate trips to the public library. Or, worse still, talking to people who might have all the answers. Libraries are musty, and people with all the answers tend to be smug; Google is modern, as fresh smelling as the room in which you happen to be sitting, and though it knows it all it's not an obnoxious know it all. It offers up zillions of answers, some wrong, some right, and leaves it to you to decide. Nothing heavy handed or smug about that.

And Google is always there when you need it. Lately, I've been in the habit of spilling red wine on people. Not on purpose of course. It just seems that any time a glass of red is in close proximity, most of it tends to end up on somebody's lap before it gets the chance to work its brand of magic on my psyche. It's landed on me, friends, and complete strangers across the table at a wedding reception. I can't seem to help myself -- which makes me wonder a little bit if I'm just incredibly spiteful and nasty, but really, I had nothing against the folks at the wedding. Whether intended or not, a red wine stain is daunting, and usually seems to find its way on to a favorite garment. Or at least an expensive one.

Anyway, we all know that shaving cream has its uses, and can even be fun (like when my daughter tested some out on me at Walgreens the other day to see if it would be foamy and I ended up looking like an ice cream sundae). But an antidote to red wine stains? That's almost as cool as knowing that you have to use cold water to tackle blood stains. (Google to the rescue, again.)

As to that third lesson -- that someone is watching over me -- it's closely related to that thing people say all the time, that everything happens for a reason. Like spilling the wine at the wedding the other night. One more sip and I would not have made it to the ladies room to puke, and since I didn't have my laptop with me it would have been tough to figure out how to get vomit out of that perfectly nice woman's dress. So yes, someone was watching over me (and her), the spill happened for a reason, and (now here's another corollary) things could always be worse.

Yes, things could definitely be worse.  Spring is approaching, and now I have no excuses. My legs will be smooth.