Taken this morning before the rains came. Leica M8.2 with Elmarit 28/2.8.

My business partner, Angelo, once told me a funny story about how he was waiting in line at the post office, but his line was moving very slowly while the line next to him was just flying. Finally getting to the service agent in his line, Angelo realized that it was a long-lost friend from high-school. After some exuberant handshakes and pleasantries the agent helped Angelo complete his various postal transactions. Just before leaving, Angelo asked his newly-found friend, “Hey Bill, just one question: How come this line is moving so slowly while the one next to us has been moving so fast?”. “Oh” replied Bill…..”He’s new!”.

I was reminded of this anecdote this morning when I once again found my newspaper neatly folded in my mailbox. It’s been like that all week. “Ah”, I said to myself, “We have a new paperboy”. I knew he/she was new because it always starts off this way. It is nevertheless amazing to see the evolution of the work ethic from beginning to “old hat”. The next step will be for the paper to no longer be put into the mailbox but rather to be thrown onto the stoop. And finally, just before you know he/she is a goner, the paper will be somewhere on the front walkway, as the paperperson’s aim begins to suffer  from “I don’t give a shit…they’re lucky I’m even awake this early”.

I’ve also noticed however that there is no such thing as a “paperboy” anymore. It’s usually adults with cars, supplementing their income. I guess the newspapers figured they’d be more reliable and could cover a larger geography, hence making more money, hence likely to stay in the job longer. Good theory. We’ve had 3-4 this year, so I’m not sure how that’s working.

Just back from a couple of days in Toronto on business. Walking through the front door of my home on the return I was struck by the realization that part of the comfort of home is in coming back to your own smells. Hotels and other public places go to great lengths to either sanitize the smells of other people out, or to mask them with the universally friendly smells of things like flowers, baking, etc. It strikes me that the de-smelling business must be huge! The opposite of course is true….there is no larger turnoff than entering a hotel room to the smell of stale cigarettes or damp mouldy carpeting. Last Summer we overnighted at a reputable motel chain. Despite the fact that the room was clean and freshly painted, the buried smells of old tobacco, body odor, and mouldy carpets was so strong that in the middle of the night I found my wife asleep in our car in the parking lot…she just couldn’t take it.

Which reminds me of the old joke:

Refined lady to bum on park bench: “Sir….you smell!”

Bum: “No madame….YOU smell….I stink!”

Continuing with the “close to home” photographic theme, I took these two images early this morning…taking out the garbage. The Summer light is already turning flat earlier and earlier, and it’s important to get out as soon as possible if you have any hope of shadows.

My wife claims that when I get an idea in my head I go “whole hog”. Well this time she was literally right! I’ve had ribs on the brain for quite some time now, falling into the not-so-uncommon obsession with getting that nearly magical combination of pork cut, heat, smoke, and rub, that produces fall-off-the-bone baby-back ribs.

Being a scientist by both nature and training, I decided to do an experiment. Three racks of ribs:

1. Smoke only: Hickory chips providing the smoke, with nothing but salt and pepper on the ribs;
2. Dry rub: A generous coating and hand-rub of Molly’s special rib rub recipe from Smitten Kitten;
3. BBQ sauce: Donna Hay’s classic American BBQ sauce recipe, pre-basted on the ribs with a touch-up halfway through.

I though for sure, one of these recipes will be better than the rest, but they were all completely different and completely AWESOME! I couldn’t believe how much of the hickory smoke the plain ribs had absorbed. If push came to shove I might choose these as my favorites. But then the dry-rubbed ribs were sooooo spicy. And finally, the Donna Hay ribs had that gooey caramelized sweetness that I really missed during the dry-rub days. So, all in all, I really can’t choose…I think I’ll have to make all three at the same time from now on!

Many people are familiar with the Greek liqueur, ouzo. And even if someone had never tasted ouzo, you could still describe it to them quite effectively by comparing it to other anise flavored drinks such as Pernod, or even to the spices themselves. Such is not the case however, for a drink called Skinos Mastiha Liqueur. Made from a tree resin found almost exclusively on the island of Chios in Greece, it has a singular flavor that does not relate to anything else you will ever have tasted in your life (unless you’re Greek and your mother put mastiha resin in certain festive cakes).

If you are looking for a totally unique and original flavor that doesn’t taste like anything else, give Skinos a try. It is available at LCBO stores in Ontario (call ahead to see if they have any inventory, or just place an order a few days before you plan to go). Thanks to Peter Minakis (Kalofagas) for introducing me to this marvelous drink. Great on ice, either as an aperitif or as a digestif after dinner.

Don’t worry…that’s not cat on the BBQ. Maybe tomorrow

In my on-going research into the art and science of  BBQ rib making, I came across another great food/recipe site at Smitten Kitten. I really like the clean look and easy to navigate interface. The recipes also sound mouth-watering. The BBQ rib exposé is very comprehensive and has lots of ideas I hadn’t yet encountered. I was led to this wonderful site via Leisureguy’s posting today on Horseradish Potato Salad. That looks pretty amazig too and I just happen to have a bag of multi-colored potatoes, so I think it’ll be tomorrow’s lunch (with the cat!).

It is perhaps fitting that the first posting of the new month be a shaving post, since I now write so irregularly on the topic. But a response to one of Leisureguy’s posts got me thinking about the use of aftershaves. The reader confesses that he has stopped using aftershaves because of irritation and facial redness.

I am embarrassed to admit to the Sin Of The Obvious (SOTO). I learned of SOTO in my first marketing course in business graduate school. It is a warning given to all marketers that they must be aware that because something appears obvious to them, it may not be so obvious to others. And so here I am, assuming that because I long ago stopped using aftershaves on my face, well, probably so did most men! And for this reason, I’ve never really addressed one of the most important topics in shaving.

I grew up at a time when splashing on and enduring the excruciating burn of an aftershave were essential rituals of passage into manhood and machismo. If you could endure that pain every morning, well, you were ready to endure the other pains that would come your way during the rest of the day! It wasn’t so bad during the Summer months when my face was naturally hydrated by perspiration, but during the Fall, Winter, and Spring, the dryness of the air dramatically exacerbated the drying effect of the alcohol in the aftershave, and my face was a dry, red, peeling and painful mess. I remember being in Toronto for a business meeting in the Winter of 1987 and I was ready to jump out of my skin with pain and irritation. I ran madly into the street, like Diogenes looking for an honest man, when I spotted the Shoppers Drug Mart neon sign and burst into the store in search of relief. I grabbed the first cream that looked familiar…Nivea…quickly paid for it and ran back to my hotel, slathering the cream on as I was opening the door to the room. Ahhhhhhhhh! I know how you spell relief….N-I-V-E-A.

From that point on, I have never used an aftershave on my face. Frankly, unless you live in a perpetually warm and moist climate, aftershave has no business on your face. The notion of splashing alcohol onto skin that is raw from shaving is counter to even the most basic tenets of Dermatology and skin science. It harks back to a time when, lacking other effective antiseptics, surgeons splashed alcohol onto battlefield wounds. I suppose the practice acquired some elements of machismo from that experience, despite the fact that the alcohol probably killed as many as it saved.

Here’s my advice. Get a good moisturizing skin cream or lotion and save the aftershave splash for your body (it is quite refreshing after a shower….unless you’ve “manscaped” any other body parts!).

I have been intrigued for some time by the concept of photographing things that are close to me, rather than seeking out subject matter in distant and/or unfamiliar places. Last week, Mr. Italo suggested a photographic outing in some colorful, if somewhat seedy, part of town. “Been there, done that”, I thought to myself. “I’m past the rummy phase”, I said to Mr. Italo…I want something different. Funny enough, “something different” seems to be much closer to home. Yesterday’s foray into my own neighborhood left me interested in seeing “more”. Today I focused on my own back yard.

Wheel and wall. Leica M8.2 with 28/2.8 Summarit.

It was a thunderous and rainy day. I had planned a photographic outing but it was not to be. During a brief lull in the showers, I took a walk around “The Hood”.  Photographing suburbia is pretty tough (and I’m not being facetious). Just like idylic vacation spots are pretty tough to avoid being picturesque and postcardish, suburbia has a settled and routine beauty that is a challenge to see beyond. Not that I can do it any better than the next guy. For what they’re worth, here’s a few shots with the M8.2, from around my “hood”.