Monday, June 29, 2009

.-.. .. -.-. -.- - .... . .--. .. --. †

Lest you think I never think of knitting anymore, I am in the process of graphing the Bat Conservation International logo for a nifty tam o' shanter.




And later this week, I'll post pictures of the pair of socks I finished a month ago.




And, FSM willing, the sparkly scarf I'm making from Nathan's brilliant stash contribution.

[SUMMARY: I'll keep you coming back for more!]

Meanwhile, I shall share some funny bits lurking in my files.

Like Tippi Hedren in marshmallows§:




And, of course, stupid sparkly vampire snark:




And a whole collection of Savage Chickens that made me snarf%:








Speaking of chicken, I started my birthday with chicken 'n' waffles, a taste treat much lauded by Snoop Dogg, so I felt I had to try it.

I am currently developing recipes to make chicken 'n' waffles not quite so much heart-attack-waiting-to-happen.# It's really all about the tobasco and maple syrup, so fat content should be negotiable.

More birthday magic later this week too!

[SUMMARY: I took a couple of marketing classes in college.]

As long as we're talking about food, I just received word from Lucretia-once-Tia that I won a year's supply of Blue Bunny ice cream on a contest on her blog.

[SUMMARY: Don't stand near me. Lightning is about to strike.††]

Yep! It's a staccato blast of pig-licking today. Who knows what cohesiveness or cleverness tomorrow may bring?‡‡


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Genuine Morse Code! Fun for the whole family! Translation: Lick the pig.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): While I try not to go overboard with WIP pics, I think Nathan should see that his generous gift is going to good and glam use. And it will pad the blog the way only sparkly, sparkly pictures can.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Don't look, Jackson! And don't click the link!

%FOOTNOTE (percented): The last one is, of course, especially for Lyda.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I want to be Snoop Dogg when I grow up, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm thinking non-fried fried chicken and Kashi toaster waffles.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'd like to thank Juno for pointing out that, contrary to my grip on kharma, I will not be struck by lightning to balance out all the good stuff that's happening, but that there is special birthday kharma that allows good things without ass-biting returns.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Yeah, most of you can lay the odds on that, but you never know. I may experience a flash of brilliance.

Monday, June 22, 2009

I Know It When I See It.

That's been a recurring theme lately, hasn't it?

And most useful for today's brief snark about art. Because I may not know much about art, but this is a French memo board from Target:



I'm pretty sure this makes this...


{Jeremy Moon at the Rocket Gallery via Yatzer}

...not art, despite the fact that it has a gallery showing.§

[SUMMARY: You kids get off my lawn!]

This, however, I would categorise as art:




I can't tell you how cool it is to know people from high school about whom you're proud to say, "I knew her when."


p.s. -- not in keeping with the high school thing, but Morwynne# posted a couple of recordings to My Space and that's art too.


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Surprisingly enough, I'm using it for the art rather than porn.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):

Oh, Yatzer, Yatzer...
such beauty you have given,
now to disappoint.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which reminds me of a premise explored in James Morrow's Only Begotten Daughter, under which the sole criterion for going to Hell is that someone else can imagine you there. Apparently, the only criterion for art is that someone will hang it in a gallery.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Even if I knew her as Kathy, Tia, Kathy and Jeffe rather than Kathryn, Lucretia, Kathryn and -- yes -- still Jeffe.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Who once offered to kneecap an ex-boyfriend for free. You can't say anything bad about Morwynne to me. I simply wouldn't buy it.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

The Corner of Lust 'n' Love†

Or the corner of Marin 'n' Quebec.

[SUMMARY: Potayto, Potahto.]




Kari was out walking her boy yesterday when she came upon this Greenwood Village street sign.§

And sent me the picture.

[SUMMARY: Kari is my new best friend.]

Guess what I want for my birthday?




It's a big YouTube day, isn't it?

*************

No. 3: The Spirit of Wood - Light Source & Philippe Paparella-Paris (Part 3 in the series)

Marin says: Grapefruit and cigarette smoke.

Right around the edges, a hint of something brown sugar sweet -- fig or currant, maybe. The grapefruit burns off quickly, leaving smoke and a hint of something brown sugar-sweet.

Another light, long-lasting scent. The final amber -- or maybe sandalwood -- throes stuck around until the next day's shower.

Six Scents says: "The inspiration for this fragrance comes from Cosmic Wonder Light Source's nature oriented fahion collection. Inspired by the designers memory of a scent experienced during a walk through a eucalyptus forest, a selection of fresh green top notes were combined with fig leaves and enlightened by green grass playing with fresh cut cypress. The idea was to create a rough and natural fragrance, using a lot of essential oils with a focus on the woody notes such as vetiver and himoki." - Phillippe Paparella-Paris, Perfumer

Ingredients: Green Grass,# Fig Leaves,$ Cypress, Elemi, Coriander, Cedar wood, Vetiver, Himoki, White Amber$

Hans says: It's very earthy. It smells like something I smell a lot, like... trees. Pine trees. I'm getting a lot of wood. I feel like I'm eating wood right now, chewing on bark.††


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Thus:




FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Quebec being well known as the City of Love.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): For those unfamiliar with Denverish suburbs, Greenwood Village is one of the best villages, and certainly has the best street signs.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Oh, yeah. Just like I said... grapefruit and cigarettes. *ahem*

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The bitter end of green grass has a LOT in common with grapefruit. *ahem*

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Yes, I'm taking credit for fig leaves. If I don't want to wreck my midterm grade, I should probably fight for credit for "maybe sandalwood" as the closest I got to wood all day. heheheheheheh. Wood.

††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For all the Hansisms, Hans got the perfumer's vision much better than I did. In a snit of jealousy, I believe I will start calling him Cosmic Wonder Light Source.

Animal Lefts

Oh, PETA, you silly set of idle hands.

Yesterday, when every news headline and video outlet on the Innernet was doing play-by-play, replay, colour commentary and recap on President Obama's battle with a pesky fly...




...I said, "I'm surprised we haven't heard from PETA yet."

I was *joking*.

Because I think I'm funny.

Y'know... hyperbole?

[SUMMARY: This is the definition of comic irony.]

Now, in tracking down a news account of PETA's involvement, I ran across another PETA cause that will undoubtedly be buried behind the shiny, media-friendly fly story: Pike Place fish flingers are doing a fish-tossing demonstration for some veterinary association gathering.

Important to note:

  1. The fish are dead.
  2. The fish will be eaten when it's over.
  3. These are trained, professional fish flingers.
  4. This is all done under veterinary supervision.

We all know how PETA feels about fishing.

Apparently fish flinging is just as bad. Live or dead, fish are our friends.




[SUMMARY: It's all very fishy.§]

The Muppets are in SUCH trouble.


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Hint: there are LOTS of them.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Moscagate!

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): See? This is the comedic genius that quipped that PETA would have something to say about fly-swatting. PETA is in SUCH trouble.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And don't get me started on you, Leslie Uggams!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Saturday in the Park with Shanny

Some happy Saturdays, Shanny has a morning remote, then an afternoon of Rockies Radio, with a few hours in between to putter.

Some happy Saturdays, I putter with him.

A couple of Saturdays ago was one of those happy days. We decided to explore the relatively new RiNo§ area of Denver.

Once upon a time, when Coors Field first opened, I used to park on Little Raven and walk across desolate fields and many railroad tracks to get to baseball games.

My, how things have changed. It's shiny lofts, trendy restaurants and Commons Park.

I *love* Commons Park. It reminded me so much of a little, tiny Central Park with its art, water, hills and little nooks where for just a moment, you can walk in the wilderness and forget the city mere yards away.




This is a cool and totally useless bit of art.#




It has lofty meaning...




...and when you get to the top, you reach the stairs and go right back down. It's a ramp to a stairway to nowhere...




...with a window to the sky.††




Anything that purposeless with lines that nice *has* to be art.

[SUMMARY: I know it when I see it.]

There are three bridges all in a row in RiNo.

One goes from Commons Park west across the river. The next goes west across the freeway into the Highlands neighbourhood.‡‡ The other is on the other side, going east across the railroad tracks.

First, we crossed the river.




At the foot of the Highlands Bridge, there's more art.§§




It's called National Velvet¶¶ and it... gleams.

[SUMMARY: Shiny!]

We quickly crossed Highlands Bridge and landed right next to the statuary supermarket.##




We gazed on art in a more classic style†††...




...and found duckies.




Across the street, urban hieroglyphics‡‡‡:




Having exhausted the west end of the bridge continuum, we realised the only thing to do to make our day complete was to cross the easternmost bridge: the Millenium Bridge.

Back across the freeway§§§...




..and across the river and onto the Millenium Bridge, with its ship's mast and starburst of cables.¶¶¶




We watched a train.




I was delighted by the simple ingenuity of the bike grooves on the stairs.###




And we gazed out over downtown Denver. This is Union Station.%




We headed south to 15th, where there's a charming viaduct.@




And more artwork tucked away in a stairwell.




We headed west on 15th back to Little Raven and saw this historic building.




According to the plaque, Historic Building No. 19, which you'd think one could look up on any number of registries, but it was a surprising bitch of a research project to find out what Historic Building No. 19 was all about. There's a lot of tangled information involving David Moffat and his brother and I think I gave Shanny my conclusion too soon.

This building is Moffat Station,^ but was indeed part of Moffat's railway empire. I haven't yet figured out what some of the articles are pointing to when they're talking about his brother's property.

Shanny may be the only person who would understand those last two paragraphs. Carry on.

[SUMMARY: Dot your Ts and cross your Is.]

It was time for Shanny to get back and wire up for the Rockies pre-show. Besides, we were exhausted. A couple of hours of wandering and stairs and bridges and cranes will drive a person to a good night's sleep.

It only seemed appropriate that this was the last artwork we saw on our adventure:




FOOTNOTE (crossed): As they say on the Colorado Morning News, "...engineer Shannon Scott." And I always talk back to the radio and say, "Hi, Shanny!"

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 850 KOA, home of your Rockies, Broncos and Buffs.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): River North.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): ...itty, bitty, wee, miniscule, a percentage of a percentage...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not entirely unlike the scene above it -- Shanny called it Windows desktop -- but more abstract.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Though I like to think it's some sort of solar calendar thingie that tells us when to sacrifice the virgins.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Home of your dear ol' AntiM.

§§FOOTNOTE (that's me, shaking my head): Um... "art."

¶¶FOOTNOTE (*headbonk*): Of COURSE it is.

##FOOTNOTE (I got your number): Not its real name.

†††FOOTNOTE (a tres of statuary): read: with boobs. I had a statuary penis too, but in a fit of feminism I forgot to upload it.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (on the wrong track): Pie, house plant, coffee, saucepan?

§§§FOOTNOTE (turn around and around): You may notice I have a thing for architectural stuff. I have whole volumes of vacation photos that are nothing but brick walls and trestles.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (not using my head head head): Any decent tourguide would have taken a picture of the mastiness of the bridge instead of just the weird up-angle.

###FOOTNOTE (three pounds of impressed in a two pound bag): I am so easily amused.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): With a crane.

@FOONOTE (atted): And another crane.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Dear Shanny, in case you're reading this, I don't even remember David Moffat's brother's name, but it isn't his house.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Who's Your Favourite Gilmore Girl?†

When I was three, I decided I wanted a dog.

Mom and I got books from the library and walked the neighbour's dog and earnestly discussed the responsibilities of having a pet. When Mom felt I had a grasp on the enormity of the situation, we started looking for a puppy.

She took me hither and yon, all over the greater Traverse City metro are looking at puppies. I'd give a perfunctory look and go play with rocks. Mom was beginning to think I didn't really want a dog after all.

Until one gloomy Michigan autumn afternoon when I met Pardner.§ The woman with the herd of puppies brought Pardner out and I picked her up and walked to the car with her. Mom whispered, "Save this one for Christmas," over my howls and tears as she extracted the squirming pup from my frantic, tantrum tempered arms.

[SUMMARY: I know it when I see it.]

In 1993, I decided I wanted a hedgehog. I'd read about them. They seemed unusual, cute and apartment-friendly. So I checked out hedgehogs. They bored me and made me a little nervous and I was beginning to think I didn't really want a hedgehog after all.

Then one day at the mall, we stopped in to look at the hedgehogs at Pet City and I saw a tiny chocolate chip nose pressed against the glass of one cage.

"Can we take this one out for a few minutes?" I asked.

I sat on the floor and the Pet City drone put her on the floor in front of me. As she unrolled from her hedgehog defensive position, a crowd gathered. Frightened, she scampered over to me and climbed in my lap.

"She's mine. I'm taking her home." So Hooter the hedgehog came to live with me.

[SUMMARY: The heart wants what it wants.]

A year after Hooter died, Brother offered to get me a cat for my birthday.

"I don't even like cats."

"You don't like cats because you've never had a cat."

Finally, in September,# I decided I was ready to hit the Denver Dumb Friends League and find a cat or two.

Brother and I went to two different shelters numerous times. There were what I'm sure were some lovely cats, but it was all rather ho-hum. Brother was beginning to think I didn't really want a cat after all.

Then one day, I dropped in to the main branch of the DDFL and there they were, Lucy and Quill.††

"Can I meet those two?"

[SUMMARY: A pattern is emerging.]

Well, after I posted the pictures of my black 50s-replica purse, Nathan% thought I might like to join the rest of y'all in the 21st century. He asked astute questions about what I was looking for, offered some options with an eye to my reaction and began helping me look for a new purse.

Amid a flurry of, "I don't really like totes or hobos... Ooooh! Look at this gorgeous hobo I found at Nordstrom... and I'd totally carry this tote. Look at the colour!"‡‡ he sent numerous links to lovely bags of all shapes and sizes, and I'd say, "I like the shape, but what do we think of the colour?"

I suspect Nathan was beginning to think I didn't really want a new handbag after all.

Then he sent me the Kooba link.

"Yes! That's it! It's perfect!"

Meet Rory.




I ordered it Wednesday afternoon. It showed up Saturday.§§ I made loud, neighbour-disturbing girl noises and took pictures just before the storm hit.

It's ever-so-slightly wider and taller than my black one, and a couple of inches deeper. The purple-red-pink colour¶¶ is unusual enough to keep me interested, but rich enough to be wearable year-round.

The leather is soft and snuggleable and the lining is a heavy, heavy satin I rubbed between my fingers for comfort when it was thundering.

Look at the hardware!




And the detail!




And the colour!




And the texture!




And there are *pockets* inside!##




And my bag has its own bag,††† made of the same heavy satin as the lining.

ETA: Hans just said the lining is like the inside of a Miami strip club.




Yesterday evening, you could find me cuddled up with my Kooba. It was heartwarming.‡‡‡

One little problem: my cell phone now clashes with my purse.




I may have to go 3G earlier than expected.§§§


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yeah, me too, but the purse is named Rory, not Lorelai. It's funny... I had a Gilmore Girls dream last night in which Lorelai commissioned Kirk to make a miniature copy of The Last Supper for Rory's dollhouse, only Kirk painted all the attendees from the back because he hadn't ever gotten the hang of noses. Also? He put them all in navy pinstripes. Flowing robes, but navy pinstriped flowing robes. So Lorelai was yelling at Kirk outside of Doose's Market and Taylor thought it would be a marvelous opportunity for a Stars Hollow festival and tried to rally the whole town into making Last Suppers for Rory. Meanwhile, Luke was quietly carving a magnificent Last Supper frieze under the guise of working on his boat in Lorelai's shed and Rory caught him and was enchanted and they bonded and he let her paint Judas's hair red. In the last scene, Taylor was at the Last Supper Festival with only a troop of Girl Scouts who had made Last Suppers out of macaroni.

I totally could've written for that show.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The parents agreed on female, smallish, short-haired, mutt. Pardner turned out to be long-haired, of the type that picks up twigs and leaves. Three out of four ain't bad.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As in, "Howdy, pardner!" Named her myself. I was three -- give me a break.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Well, a kind of a quick waddle. Hedgehogs have *very* short legs.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): After I had purchased several books and thoroughly researched the issue through a series of Internet searches and interviews. I have a problem.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Who, besides being my new best friend, is also my fairy godfather. I am utterly convinced I never would have found Rory without Nathan, and would have settled for a purse that was mostly good.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Or Garth and Axl as they were named at the time. It's terrible, the indignities some people impose on their pets.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): A fairy godfather of infinite patience. Rumour has it he banged his head against the wall more than once, yet he soldiered on.

§§FOOTNOTE (some days I get turned around): After telling Nathan I had serious buyer's remorse, because what ding dong orders the perfect bag, then clicks, "Yes, please send this to me by the slowest means you offer"?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (mulberries!): Mulberry!

##FOOTNOTE (they look like zippers): You might be surprised how many bags either have no pockets, only have one zippered pocket or don't mention pockets at all like they aren't important.

†††FOOTNOTE (studs and zipper pulls): You might also be surprised -- I was -- how many luxury accessories come with their own luggage. My Cole Haan shoes have their own flannel sleeping bags.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (no, THOSE look like zippers): A Girl and Her Kooba. Kooba Come Home. My Friend Kooba.

§§§FOOTNOTE (just one thing after the other): Which will delight Shanny to no end, I'm sure.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Let's Talk About the Weather

This was yesterday:




As part of the ongoing cycle of extreme weather, we had hail.

And torrents.

And urban flooding.

Hail isn't kind to plants. The basil gets muddy and trampled...




And the cucumbers get shredded and even impaled on their own stakes.




And yet, The Little Tomato That Could powers on.




Now, I'm very proud of my little tomato. Watching it is not unlike watching Tallest, Hairiest Nephew when he was just discovering vision and movement; I could sit with him for hours watching him watch everything.§ Now I watch The Little Tomato That Could intensely, aware of every little hair and every hint of a new leaf, every colour change and every growth spurt.

But I also saw Attack of the Killer Tomatoes and I'm wondering at man's folly in creating a tomato strong enough to blithely withstand a hailstorm.#

[SUMMARY: Plants are almost as scary as robots if you do it right.]

Today, the tell-tale darkness blotted the sun and I ran out to put one of the deck umbrellas over the tender plants†† to save them from possible impending hail.

For those of you unfamiliar with Denver's weather plane,% there is a large-scale weather rotation called the Denver Cyclone that occurs when winds coming off the Palmer Divide meet the currents of the Platte River Basin. When heat and moisture are high enough, rotational thunderstorms that can lead to hail and funnel clouds are the result.

This is a rotational thundercloud that‡‡ became a high funnel cloud just down the road.§§

ETA: It's more fun if you wait 'til the buffering finishes, then fast-forward it. Nobody really needs to watch a full minute of slow boil.

video


Always an education here at the Rickety Blog.

Kids: don't try this at home. This was the work of a certified lunatic and should not be attempted by the levelheaded.

Back to you in the studio, Jim.


FOOTNOTE (crossed): A catch-phrase almost as popular as "Doppler Radar" on today's weathercast.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not a stupid sparkly one among them.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, and play with him as one plays with a cat. Altruism only goes so far before one needs to entertain oneself.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): By which I mean "my folly."

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I would like to point out that this is a wholly organic tomato, grown by wholly organic means in organic soil and organic compost, fed organic tomato food... I learned *something* from the movie. Also? I worry that The Little Tomato will rebel in its teen years and eat nothing but McDonald's and petrochemicals because I was so strict with it in its youth.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Using a remarkable system of deck rails and bungee cords. Bungee cords are the new duct tape.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Let me be your weatherdork, baby.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I believe.

§§FOOTNOTE (twister!): They had to evacuate Coors Field (three miles from my house) during a baseball game. In my fantasies, the funnel cloud that precipitated that is the one I recorded.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Lego My Saviour


{via Gizmodo}

5:45... 5:45...

What work-related email can I send so all the people who aren't here to witness this will know I was here at 5:45?

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Designer Death Match




My favourite cradle of aesthetics, Yatzer, is having a Composition Fight between two rugs.

What do you think?

While I like the linear quality and Asian look the letters give the bottom rug, and the stronger black seems more dramatic, the top rug has skull'n'crossboneses. And probably a pig.

Pigs and skulls win every time.


FOOTNOTE (crossed): Plurals of plurals are the bane of my existence.

There Is an Elephant in the Way

It's the moment you've been waiting for, the storm of the century, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to Lick the Pig!

Bet you never thought the day would come.

[SUMMARY: Long time no lick.]

*************

We had a fire drill yesterday.

We filed in a calm and orderly manner down the stairs, then congregated in the parking lot kitty-corner from the office.§ Hans and I are fire buddies, so we checked to be sure we were OK. The fire wardens for each floor wore their red Fire Warden hats and checked us in on their fire warden clipboards. Then they let us back in the building.

Dude.

I've been four and I've been twelve...

[SUMMARY: I'm ten.]

*************

Speaking of school daze, Brother sent me these:










Consensus is that the elephant is the funniest one.

While Brother thought the lack of humour on the part of the grading parties was noteworthy, I think "Very funny, Peter," made me laugh almost as hard as the funny Peter made to get that accolade.

[SUMMARY: Humour is subjective.]

*************

This morning, I got a parking space on the only street in downtown Denver with no meters and no time limits.#

I have a feeling I spent all my kharmic green stamps for the next three years to get that spot.

[SUMMARY: Kharma is subjective.]

*************

Did I mention I got Bronco season tickets over the weekend? Second-hardest-to-obtain season tix in the NFL?††

[SUMMARY: I may be in kharmic debt after that.]

*************

I took brother to see Leonard Cohen at Red Rocks last week.‡‡ If you get the chance, ya gotta see him. First, he has some of the best musicians I've ever seen/heard backing him up. Then, not only did he play for three-and-a-half hours, he skipped off the stage every time he left.

Skipped. A 74-year-old man.

And he's funny.

Great Leonard Cohen paraphrase:

"It’s been 14 or 15 years since I walked this stage. I was about 60 then, full of a young man’s dreams. I’ve taken a lot of Prozac since then. And Paxil, Wellbutrin,§§ Ritalin, Focalin… but I never took any of the little blue pills.

You see, I was deep in religious study at the time.

I didn’t know Prozac suppresses the libido.

I thought I had transcended desire."

[SUMMARY: Leonard Cohen would definitely understand Kharmic Green Stamps.]

*************

The tiny little Tomato Plant that Could gets stronger all the time.

Every day when I leave for work, I have separation anxiety because¶¶ I'm afraid a tornado will go through the alley or we'll have [more] hail and I'll come home to find it washed away.

[SUMMARY: Parenthood has its stresses.]

*************

Speaking of plants, I planted the north forty this weekend and ended up with an honest-to-Jebus farmer's tan.

[SUMMARY: There's a little white trash in all of us.%]

*************

Speaking of weather, with the current and recent levels of humidity in Denverish,## my hair has become large and unruly.

I give up. The hair is on its own.

In other weather news, I finally bought an umbrella, so it hasn't rained on my walks to and from the office in days.

[SUMMARY: This is me... this is the universe revolving around me...]

*************

And in the lick of a pig, I'm off.

*************

No. 2: Wicken 3000 - Bernhard Willhelm & Lucas Sieuzac for Six Scents (Part 2 in the series)†††

Marin says: Alcohol *flash!*

Aldehyde *flash!*

Soap *flash!*

A brief *flash!* that makes me want to quote Grains de Musc on Jean Claude Ellena,‡‡‡ then licorice and bay rum under heavy cloud cover.

This is so watery and close to the skin and disappears so fast -- even with three direct hits from the bottle.

It's inoffensive.

It's almost not there.

Six Scents says: "A light, fresh, clean scent that embodies a fusion of the elements. The idea was to create a perfume close to the elements of water and air,but with a futuristic approach.§§§ Express "the Back to nature" side of Bernhard with a pure & essential fragrance." - Lucas Sieuzac,

Perfumer Ingredients: Sea Breeze Accord, Bergamot, Water Jasmine, Sheer Musk.

Hans says: Whew! There's a lot of alcohol! It smells like a gin and tonic. It's definitely very light. I like it, but it's very... it smells like, um, summer mist off a... weeping willow.¶¶¶


FOOTNOTE (crossed): I may be overestimating your excitement over pig-licking.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Srsly.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not the one I take pictures of all the time... the one across the street from that.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): We were.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm not telling you where.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): For those of you scoring at home, the Green Bay Packers are harder. heheheheheheheh

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Jealous? Oh, please be jealous.

§§FOOTNOTE (I'm just a little confused): sp?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (staked tomotoes): Because I'm a tomato dork.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Except maybe Nathan.

##FOOTNOTE (the pounding moist): Unheard of humidity! Humidity on a grand scale! A swamp's worth of humidity!

†††FOOTNOTE (tick tick tick): That sounds so 60 Minutes, doesn't it?

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (I tracked it down!): "...one of Jean Claude Ellena's many variations on the smell of water." And a big auxilliary slurp to Nathan for that quote.

§§§FOOTNOTE (triple take): Hey, that's what I said!

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (three pats for Hans): And this is why we continue to keep Hans around.