** Kurt, you are forewarned. This entry deals with hippie hygiene. Mine.**
Tonight Brian was flipped upside down on the rocking seat while we chatted.
"Hey did you shave your armpits?!" he suddenly asked.
I laughed at his acute sense of observation; razor action is a rare enough happening, although I had vowed to return to the habit. Pheromones were overpowering my righteous indignance at the frivolity & belittling aesthetics of the so-called beauty industry. As I am not trying to attract a mate, I have no need for hormone-laced fuzz & dusted off my unopened blades to re-introduce my underarm skin to the autumn air.
"Shaving is just obvious when you have a conversation upside down," he explained. (However as this was our first upside down conversation, logic dictates he's observed my underarms while right side up.) "And I was thinking it is funny how women don't shave their armpits and that breaks the norm, and I do shave mine which breaks another norm."
Lisa, Arianna and I oohed and aahhed as he pulled up his work shirt sleeve to show his trimmed crop; the scene was undeniably co-op.
What Brian did not detect was that, going all out today, I also wore the Tom's lavender deodorant he gave me right after moving into the house. That's what new friends are for: organic deodorants.
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tales from life in a co-op
under our roof
a glassblowing alternajournalist, a musical storytelling anarcho-baptist, a capoeira-playing engineer, a renaissance physicist, a scrabble champion math teacher, a neurobiologist philosopher, a filmmaker documenting the deadliest man alive, an international flutist biologist, a journalist animator baker, a hiking biking banjo-strumming math teacher, a singing bilingual editing, a backgammon playing sex therapist, a novel-writing psych nurse guitarthlete, a pensive epistilary collage artist & two cats.