Some thoughts.

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First, about the nurse practitioner.  I have a feeling, to some minor degree, she has viewed my blog.  Oh, a spoof.  Perhaps entertaining.  A rush!  A few questions in, I saw her begin to squirm.  Perhaps the bravado, if not brought in full force to the interview even so, wasn't as much bravado.  Or, as a thought of last resort, what was sitting beside her was insane... confused.  The thing is, most people have a pretty good sense of that.  Some will cling to that idea if all else fails and they aren't willing to take one more step, and go further from the Shire then they had ever been.

More.  My blog terrifies people.  Have no doubt.  It seems odd to me.  Much as, say, a butcher would think nothing of a carcass, skinned and halved, setting on his counter.  For some, it is horrifying.  As I have mentioned, many times in the past, if this is simply kept as entertainment, that is fine.  But if there was some notion that there was some truth under there, or worse a lot of truth, or worst... more  truth than what most people have... then the horror can engulf a mind.  Yes, most creatures are delicate in many ways, and have avoided certain truths.  I have exposed some of them, or so I say.  If more by simply singing the songs I "know".  Through other voices, actors, directors, and such, I have discusses how I understand things.  And, if true, and to those who shield their eyes, crushingly dark.

Just from my medical situation, she began to wonder.  Just that, and yet what she was seeing before her.  Yes, indeed, I shouldn't look like a mildly wild middle aged man.  I should be hooked up to machines, tended.  If... of course... what I was telling her about my medical diagnosis was correct, true.  Of that I have no doubt.  I guess... after that... I understand why the V.A. was so freaked.  I sometimes wonder if they were just jacking me.  Maybe not.  Just my various diagnosis, just those, to a mind that knows about medicine... it is terrifying.  How do I even begin to tell them that I have been dead thrice and brought back right through it?  That I lasted five minutes in class IV to V whitewater, and helped paddle out?  I probably shouldn't have told her about the draino.  Yeah.

I may not be able to find a doc.  Certainly not if I tell them more than they can handle.  You would have thought medical training would have... bolstered them.  Delicate creatures.  Absolutely certain I will die at any moment.  And, yet, I guarantee, I will outlive most of them... assuming... accidents or cosmic incidents don't interfere.  Or one of the few who could know doesn't decide to break the seal that is my life, in the ways that such is possible.  *wink*
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On another subject, I have been frustrated with shaving.  I just haven't, so far, been able to sharpen my straight razors well enough to shave.  I am still hoping to do so.  I have only gotten to it a few times, sharpening... honing really.  I have had the kitchen clean, but then I need a break, or another project comes up, or I begin cooking up a storm and... the opportunity goes away.  A little help would make some thing happen more often, but I don't have any help, so...  I hit it when I get to it and everything else is lined up.

Not wanting to quit, and hoping to do a bit more in that direction, I decided to order a double edge razor, blades, and some other such.  I have some things already, like a couple of face soap brushes, aftershaves, and such.  That came in yesterday, while I was sleeping, so some time in the early to late afternoon?

I opened the box, looked everything over, arranged and prepped the kit, but the bathroom sink was... nasty.  Rather than just quit there, however, I decided to prep the area.  I cleaned it well, cleaned it twice, then began figuring out where this and that would go.  All set up, I thought to shave sometime soon.  A common arrangement hereabouts.  I checked on the beans.  Gah!  Those are taking forever.  As I was about to head back to the machine, though, I decided to shave.

A little nervous, because of my attempts with a straight razor, I just... wanted to, had to, know.  There is nothing like lathering.  The razor was ready.  It was quick, given that it had all been, pretty much, arranged already.  The blade closed with my face.  A spot of fear.  Then... *scrape*  Hmm, not bad.  *scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, splash*  Hmm, not bad at all.  Then I just go busy.  I must have angles down,  I shaved this way, that way, then another way but only under my chin and neck area, below the jawline. 

Wonderful.  I haven't had this good, or comfortable, of a shave in... maybe ever?  Seriously.  I hate shaving, or have to this point, because I have found nothing that wasn't brutal.  Those three, four, five, or two, even one, blade disposables...  Neither have they been comfortable to use nor have they offered a close shave.  No matter how many times I go over it.  I have medium whiskers, of medium density, at the worst.  I don't even know what the problem is.  But, now, I have a good way to shave.  Just every other, or every third day, but...  Good.  Amazing.

With this, however, I am hoping to learn to shave better, experiment with angles, and this and that, but all toward learning the straight razor.  Why?  No blade changing... in a lifetime if you buy quality and take care of it.  Well, and... yeah... a bit of bravado.  I have no shame of bravado.  If that is very rarely what it is about.  But along with bravado is the notion that I have the skills to keep a device that sharp, that I have the hand strength and dexterity to shave that way, and that I have all other wherewithal to manage shaving with a straight razor.  It is a mastery, or will be, I hope.  Still, for now, I have a wonderful way to shave.  And, perhaps it will be an occasional way to shave, besides the straight razor, say for travel or such where a straight razor may not work best.  I need to be quite self-sufficient... much more so in any case... when I head North.  A straight razor just needs sharpening and soap, if treated correctly.  Cuts down on pack weight.

Later.