A Man's Favorite Pastime

Last month I had dinner with a colleague who asserted, “Men are never too old to think about their penises.” She then relayed the story of her uncle on his deathbed, seemingly incoherent and unresponsive. In what seemed like his final minute, his longtime nurse leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Tony, I’ll go to bed with you now.”

Suddenly Uncle Tony was wide-eyed, looked all around, rested his gaze upon his nurse and smiled. For five minutes he seemed revived then, just as suddenly as he came to life, his life ended. The story stuck with me as I found myself thinking about it frequently.

I was at water aerobics class last week when an old man, about 85, walked out into the pool area, fully dressed with hat and jacket to keep the morning chill off him. He walked with a slow gait, almost a shuffle, and his right arm in a sling. Add to that he was a bit hunched over and didn't really look at anyone or anything, just walked up and down the length of the pool to get a bit of fresh air.

A woman in my class was getting chilled and decided she had had enough. At about 85 herself, she's a spry old gal, with a typical body of an 85 year-old woman, a little saggy here and there, with some cellulite and veins noticeable in her legs, but very comfortable in her body.

Suddenly I found myself thinking about Uncle Tony and wondered, “Will that old man sneak a peek at her as she walks by?” I jogged along with the class, never taking my eyes off the old man and the woman about to walk right in front of him. She hurried past him as he walked her way, but he remained hunched and seemingly unaware of her, yet looking straight in her direction. She headed toward the door, but he kept walking as if determined not to notice her. Just when I was about to give up on him, he turned as the woman neared the door. Abruptly, he was staring, never taking his eyes off her as she reached for the door handle, glided through the door and into the locker room.

"Ah ha," I said to myself. "My friend is right about these old guys!"

Seeing Red

I had an early morning appointment with my dermatologist yesterday to get my face lasered. That statement is a bit of exaggeration, but she pretty much covered my face with the exception of my nose and eyes. I have that typical Irish fair skin, thin, white and flushes easily. After a childhood of frying in the sun slathered with baby oil and cocoa butter, I learned to avoid the rays, hiding behind my always-present sunglasses, underneath wide-brimmed Panama styled hats of in every neutral shade, and slathered in waterproof sunscreen. However, over time my broken capillaries got the best of me, turning my cheeks a perpetual red, eliciting questions from friends about why I do not do something about my rosacea. Duh, broken capillaries are not the same as rosacea.

Versapulse (R). That is the name of the machine that did the job, best to rid one of broken capillaries in no more than a few treatments at $450 a visit. Upon arrival, the doc took a good long look at my face and said, "You have an unusual amount of background redness. This won't get rid of it but IPL will." I would have asked more questions about IPL but I got my IPL education courtesy of Patty, the woman who administers my monthly facial.

"It stands for intrapulse laser, I think. It costs about $450 per treatment and you get it done by an esthetician. You usually sign up for 5-6 visits to keep the price down to $450," Patty informed me. "That's probably what your doctor will recommend when you see him."

I was not planning to see my doctor, her, by the way. However, I found myself formulating my strategy all the way through my facial. After all, why spend money on a monthly facial if I wasn't willing to fix my most obvious skin problem with anything more than makeup?

I'm sitting here today, my cheeks still slightly swollen, speckled with white dots, all nicely arranged in a column, the result of the Versapulse(R) that only penetrates the skin about 1/20th of an inch, good enough to heat up the blood in the capillary and shut it down. Now I just have to wait six to eight weeks while the capillaries get flushed out, then I can evaluate the success of the procedure and determine if I need another session.

It is probably too soon to tell for real but my skin already seems less red with less visible capillaries. However, I know the laser, in spite of wearing safety goggles, has affected my eyesight. Somehow, the $450 I was charged (even before I went in to see the doctor) got in the way and has altered my ability to see red.

The Music Specialist

Our London trip began and ended at Harrods, where else? After our tour of the antiquities in the lower east portion of the British Museum on Friday and, after our walk on Sloan Street in search of Jo Malone's original storefront and, after returning to Harrrods and accidently finding ourselves facing racks of CDs when we took the back elevator near the candy department up to the 3rd floor, only then did I realize I forgot to get a new CD for the boys; something local is what they asked for. With no time to waste I asked directly for what I was in search of, something local, best if not yet heard in America, something known but unknown worldwide.

On my first try I was directed to the Arctic Monkeys but, alas, they've crossed the Atlantic. That brought a recommendation for the Holloways, a well-known British band with a great following. SOLD!

Later we returned to the CD department when my sister realized she needed to bring home a CD for her teens, also. Same question to the help but this time, our shopgirl said, "Let me get you the Music Specialist," and off she went. Out came a young twentysomething blond woman, nothing punk or rocker about her. But when it came to recommending some new and fresh sounds from the local rock scene, she took me on a blazing fast tour, past the Artic Monkeys (though she tried) and onto a few CDs that helped me cover the range and look like a heroine to my kids. Her recommendations were all hits at home with the boys so if you're into some good rock here you go, courtesy of the Harrods Rock Music Specialist.

1. Just hitting London and not too well known yet, but on their way: The Wombats, A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation


2. Just making the countrywide scene but not generally known elsewhere: Good Shoes, a self-titled CD (the Specialist is ex-girlfriend to one of the band mates)


3. Established British Rockers: The Holloways, So This is Great Britian


4. Just crossing the ocean and winner of a recent American Music Award: The Klaxons, Myths of the Near Future (revealing this CD got me high fives from my sons, they'd heard them but didn't know anyone yet with the CD)

I'm off to let Harrods know how happy I am. Listen and enjoy!