Bag Lady Kathryn wanted to have dinner at the Coral Room last night,† but she bolted before I was finished with my wine,‡ so I said I was going to hang around for a few minutes.
Then George§ and Candice came in with Dena and they invited me to come sit with them and I did and we got to talking and drinking and drinking and then they wanted to go down to High Pac and listen to some band from Alabama and did I want to come and I did and then it was 1:30 in the morning, so...
...it's 7:30 and I'm going to go knit in front of the Olympics for a brief spell and go to bed early.
Welcome to another scorching hot Friday night at Chez Barfly.
Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab
Marin says: I am in love with myself again.
Well, mostly I'm in love with my wrists.
The coffee smell is heavenly and somehow buttery. I feel like a Werther's candy.
As it spreads and mellows, I'm getting more old paper and wood. I can actually smell that slightly sweet, musty-woody scent of books yellowed with age.
The buttery note is fading into leather or floorwax or some other slightly oily, tangy scent. Oh, wait... definitely leather. Leather and old books with a cup of coffee with cream -- just gone cold¶ -- sitting nearby.
Oh! Wait! I got it! My dad has smoked a pipe for years. He has pipe tobacco that smells like this -- kinda woody and sweet. Gosh, I'm happy right now.
BPAL says: The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes# and polished oakwood halls.$
Hans says: "I can smell it from here.†† It smells like caramel."
[international Hans sign for "bring me your wrist."]
"Oh, yeah. Caramel to the max."‡‡
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I fully intend to blame this whole thing on Kathryn.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): She had to pack for an early morning flight -- it's not like she abandoned me, though in the spirit of "blaming this on Kathryn," I think it's downright saintly for me to admit this.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): George and I are going to open a brothel in Rifle, Colorado. We're going to make a billion dollars of the oil roughnecks, then I'm going to get indicted and write a sexy, scathing, tell-all book about my experience and retire to the House of Fuzzy Crack.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Cold coffee smells different from hot coffee.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, I'd read this and remember the coffee and books part, so it's not like I was a genius about picking out notes.
$FOOTNOTE (right on the money): Ha! Got one! I didn't remember the part about the polished floors, but I did say "floorwax."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The doorway.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): On beyond "soap."