Rub-a-dub-dub

Mi amigo Pete is always on the ball. He presented me with not one, but two Christmas gifts this past week. I wish I could say that I am as good a friend as he, but I fear I am much, much worse.

I will be reporting on both gifts as they are of such a nature that they absolutely scream "blog post".
He presented this handsomely marketed piece in a plastic bag with the explanation-- "my wife won't let me keep this in the house unless it's in a plastic bag."  Smart thinking I say as it is redolent of campfire and beef jerky, very manly.

I showed it to my gal and she was also repulsed by the exotic bouquet. She forbade me to use it, which of course meant that I had to do exactly that. I could not let such a thoughtful gift go to waste, so I struck out for the farthest, most ventilated bathroom in the house, the pool bath.
The bar itself is actually a deep brown color, I assume that is why grandpa felt the need to advertise that it lathers white. It foamed up well and is not totally unpleasant once you have grown accustomed to it's earthy essence.
I don't have, nor have ever had, psoriasis, scales, eczema, dandruff or any other skin conditions that the soap is purported to cure so I cannot comment on it's healing nature. I can report that I did feel clean, so it really is a soap.

I asked my wife and the two older daughters, whom lately seem to appreciate the way men smell, what they thought of the scent. Two out of three said it was disgusting, the third had no opinion.
I will keep who said what to myself.

I have returned the bar to it's plastic bag, and the bag now resides in my garage. If any of you readers find yourselves with any of the above mentioned skin maladies, give me a ring and I can let you borrow this all natural cure-all. Until then it will set just where I left it.