Tongue Bone Connected to the Pig Bone

OK... everybody who laughed at "tongue bone," raise your hands.

Everybody who laughed at "pig bone"?

We are so twelve.

[SUMMARY: Status quo. We has it.]

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

I used to park in the $9 lot across the street from the office. I started parking at a $3 lot down the street from the office, only partly because we were recently given a parking per diem and I am now making $5 parking three blocks away.

But that's not the important part. The important part is that I have to have $3 cash every day. This led to many amusing incidents wherein I tried to make my lunch bill or grocery bill come out to a certain amount so I would get piles of ones back in my change.%

With my last paycheck, I got proactive and took the odd amount† in cash and asked for ones.‡

So I sit some nights in front of the TiVi, carefully folding individual bills in half, in half, in half again... then paper-clipping three together. Then I put those little, paper-clipped bundles in one of the organza bags that haunts my life and carry them proudly§ in my purse.

Some of you are probably thinking what a obsessive dork I am, but I tell you all this to point out something even dorkier: someone gets paid to unfold all those dollar bills from the parking bank.

[SUMMARY: Job security. They has it.]

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

Know one of the great things about cold weather?¶

Footie pajamas.

Target sells them every year sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving. They tend to go fast, so keep an eye out.#

[SUMMARY: Sexy. I lost it.]

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

My knitting has been non-existent in the past three or four weeks.

I picked up the needles this weekend to make a bat for the Dracula swap on Ravelry. The pattern is... oblique. I need more pictures.

Or I may just have to start making shit up.

It's called making a comeback.

[SUMMARY: Skillz. I still has some.]

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

I -- we -- also seriously lapsed on our push up quest. However, I'm going to reassess myself and start wherever I need to. I'm not giving up, just temporarily flaking out.

[SUMMARY: Ambitions. I... oh, you get the idea. I'm not sure how funny the lolcat construct is in repetitive text.]

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

Now back to work. Werk.

Well, at least back to bossing Hans around.

[SUMMARY: Work ethic...]

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

Tolu - Ormonde Jayne

Marin says: Elusive. It smelled like cinnamon and toilet paper (remember the Marin lexicon for scents - TP is not bad, just descriptive). A little powdery, but for once, not in a bad way. Opaque, but light, and mostly sweet, not in a bad way.

Oops. Spoke too soon. I had lilac-scented powder when I was a kid and this is a thick, nominally more sophisticated version of that now.

Dries down to a powdery-sweet dry wood.

Ormonde Jayne says: (A Peruvian†† tree resin.) Perfume treasure, this opulent velvety formulation with pure Tolu resin takes you on a sensual Oriental journey. Laced with golden frankincense and amber, the scent's core is enveloped with a heady mix of orange blossom and clary sage, while intense citrus notes consolidate the harmony.

Top: Juniper berry, orange blossom and clary sage
Heart: Orchid, Moroccan rose and muguet
Base: Tolu, tonka bean, golden frankincense and amber$

Hans says: Smoky. Not smoky-smoky... maybe it's because I had two cigars last night. Musty?


%FOOTNOTE (percented): It became a weird lifestyle thing. When I realised I was planning large parts of my shopping, budget and whole days to trying to track down one... more... dollar... bill... well, it was time for a better plan of action.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Actually, it was $88, which is a distinctly even amount, but it was the amount that made my deposit end in two zeros.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I was kind. I told the terrified little girl at the teller's window she didn't have to count out the $25 bundles for me.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hey, you'd be proud too if you got the change-making monkey off your back.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): It's a segueway. A rhetorical segueway. I'm sure y'all could come up with lot of good things about cold weather that have nothing to do with my pajamas.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Yes, I know you can buy them year-round on the Innernets, but it's like seasonal fruit: there's something shiny about the scarcity.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Heh. Peruvian. That one's for you, Jaxon.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): I got nothing.

Just Like Christmas

I got my Secret Pal package! Saturday!@

Because I'm really nice,† I'm going to share.‡

My spoiler was Helen from Alabama. And I was right. She *does* sing.%

First, an overview -- there's some Addi lace needles and... huh... you can't see the bath salts, but they're there, they probably ended up behind something, there's a copy of the Knitter's Almanac and a nice bookmark.§




Oh, but that's not all. Some things require a close-up:





Brown Sheep Wildfoote sock yarn in Rhapsody and Mountain Colors Mountain Goat in Wild Raspberry.




Skull tattoos... dozens and dozens of 'em.




A knit bag¶ with a lovely lining.




I tried hard not to tear the Alice in Wonderland paper, but there was *tape*.




Lookie! I got a scarf! It's, like, nine or ten feet long, which puts it in Dr. Who territory.^




And a toilet brush!

It's really a toss-up as to which of the scarf and the toilet brush is my favourite. Nobody but my mom ever knit me anything, and the hat and scarf she knit for me are long gone. It's just really cool to have something hand-knit of my own.

On the other hand, how cool is a skull-encrusted toilet brush set? And it comes with a funny story: The handle of the brush screws into the brush part. When I opened the box and started pulling stuff out,# I pulled out a tissue-wrapped bundle that contained... a toilet brush.

And I looked at it.

And I wondered.

And I decided Secret Pal Helen certainly deserved the benefit of the doubt, but still secretly wondered if she had accidentally wrapped a replacement toilet brush up and was even now wondering how she was going to get her toilet clean with a needle gauge or a box of tea or some such.

I pulled out a skull-laden candle holder,†† but it wasn't until I came across the skull-topped magic wand†† that the lightbulb went off.

Almost as good as Nintendo, I tell you, putting the pieces of that puzzle together.

Thanks, Helen! And thank you for all your comments too -- it's been great getting to know you.
*************

I'm doing Week 3 of the pushups over again. I had some lame moments, both literally and figuratively, in the last round. I'll let you know how that goes when I actually START Week 3, part 2.

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

Sublime Balkiss - The Different Company

Marin says: A shriek of grapefruit over a solid base of a warm-but-not-sweet wood. The wood smells like teak looks. And the shriek fades away quickly to a kind of bitter, herbal, green smell.
In the spirit of a hell of a roll-out, a warm, powdery ambery scent - very light - wraps around it.

Then the oddest WTF blurt of plastic and sour citrus. It's one of those I keep sniffing every few minutes because it develops so intriguingly. I'm not sure if, ultimately, it's all that wearable for me.

I'll definitely give it a fresh shot on another day.

TPC says: Sublime Balkiss is named for the Queen of Sheba. The Different Company describes it as a modern chypre fragrance without oakmoss (real or synthetic) or animal-derived raw materials.

Created by Celine Ellena, it has notes of the traditional patchouli, a modified modern patchouli which emphasizes the cocoa powder notes, bergamot,$ violet,$ black and purple berries,? blueberry, blackberry, blackcurrant, lily of the valley, rose and lilac.

Hans says: That smells like swimming pool. [Second sniff] Earthy. Like vegetable-y... like roots, not dirt. [Much later] Elephant.

‡‡§§¶¶##
@FOOTNOTE (atted): 'Cause, you know, didn't check the mail 'til Monday, had to take pictures, small delay, all is well. *ahem*

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I feel you snickering, Brother. I know where you live.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Well, I mean I'm going to show-and-tell share. I'd guess I won't be distributing any goodies anytime soon. I'm not *that* nice.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): More than just for my birthday, that is.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): With a mermaid.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I really love the gold yarn on the bag, Helen. What is it?

^FOOTNOTE (careted): The old Dr. Who. I haven't so much noticed David Tennat wearing a long, stripey scarf.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not at all like a kid at Christmas.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Or so it seemed.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Sort of got one! OK, bergamot is a bitter orange, so it could read grapefruit and violet always has a sort of plastic/petroleum product air to it. So I'm giving myself some credit. Shut up.

?FOOTNOTE (WTF?): I so did not get any kind of berries.

Housekeeping

Not at my house, to be sure,† but I thought the elephant deserved his own post,‡ so here's the update on the 100 push ups and a perfume review:

*************
I have been lagging on the fifth set every round of push ups -- the one where they give you a minimum, but tell you to do as many as you can.§

I was blaming my near-misses on tennis, but Juno says it was a very big step up from the second week to the third week, so I feel much better.¶

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

Rem - Reminiscence

Marin says: Pipe tobacco humidified with rum. EXTREMELY light and short-lived. In fact, I would have raved, but I've decided to rave only as long as the perfume itself lasted.

And we're done.

The Perfumed Court says: A tropical fragrance with top notes of bergamot, cyclamen, and oceanic ozone; middle notes of honeysuckle, geranium, and palmarosa; and base notes of musk, vanilla, coconut, patchouli, sandalwood, and tonka bean. This is a European exclusive and is not available in the United States.#

Hans says: Daquiri.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Come on over any time, Lyda!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Of COURSE it's a him.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may remember this part via the Moment of Great Hubris in Which I Proclaimed I Would Do More Than 35 Push Ups at Once.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Apparently I require a lot of validation.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): See: sucker for the exclusive.

Old & Feeble

I may have used that blogtitle before, but I don't remember. Know why?

'Cause I'm old and feeble.

The old part I don't mind so much, but the feeble is driving me crazy.

[SUMMARY: Short trip, easy on the gas.†]

For instance, I have spent the last several days finalising the distillation and reporting of data from several regional offices, various warring factions and possibly outer space.

When I had done all I thought I could do, I sent it to the regional offices and warring factions for proofing and remodeling.‡

Which, of course, generated a variety of confusing and/or ill-conceived responses like, "Where's the Bunnyfart 2-12 well? I thought we were selling ALL the Bunnyfart wells as long as they were in east Texas,"§ and, "Did anyone check to see if the Kwisatz Haderach still wanted to play a quick game of craps with the potential buyers to see who gets the royalty interests?"¶

This morning, I came in to find emails with time stamps like "11:43 pm" and "4:37 am" talking about things that were fixed weeks ago.

Finally, I got a set of corrections back from one department.

And it was all done on old data sheets. Sheets I couldn't even suss out when they were done because there were wells from the LAST sale on them.

I sent a mildly snarky email saying, "I don't know where you got these. These are the wrong data sheets. Please look at the data sheets I sent you yesterday afternoon and confirm the numbers."

To which I got the reply, "I got the data sheets from you yesterday morning when I told you I was leaving on vacation and you agreed to send me what you had."

*ahem*

There are still wells from the last sale in that batch that I didn't send her yesterday.#

[SUMMARY: Let the finger-pointing begin!]

But I had to apologise and eat a little crow.

Anyway, more important to most of you, I finished an object last week.

Only... in keeping with the O&F theme,†† I completely forgot to take pictures.

It was this‡‡:

still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog
still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog

Made from this§§:

still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog
still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog

It even had a clever name¶¶: Do Two Deca Ten Hedron Three-Dimensional Geometric Shape, because the first group of people who asked what it was, I said, "It's a dodecahedron" and they said, "A who-deck to what?"

So I said, "Do - two. Deca - ten. Hedron - three-dimensional geometric shape. A ball with twelve points."

[SUMMARY: Clever.]

But no photos. Use your imagination. Keep in mind, it was fabulous.

still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog still a knitblog
*************

I did not best 35 push ups in my last set. I bested 20 push ups, which was the minimum, but I did not best 35 push ups.

Question: Why do you suppose I can do 20-15-15-13-21 in sets, but I can't do, say, 40 at a time when I'm doing the assessment portion?

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

Isfarkand - Ormonde Jayne (edp)

Marin says: My first impression is pepper and lime leaves. The pepper fades and the lime is all but gone, leaving something like cedar and a powdery floral -- which may be iris. I keep going back to it -- I'm loving the cedar thing, and the floral is nearly gone, allowing a tiny bit of lime to peek through again. Cedar and lime... mmmmm.

OJ says: Super cool## in style, vibrant and sensual, Ormonde Jayne introduces her latest fragrance for men, Isfarkand. Beautifully balanced notes of lime,$ mandarin and bergamot all wrapped up in pink pepper,$ cedar,$ vetiver and moss. It's uncomplicated, yet dynamic and very addictive. Beware gentlemen, it could be habit forming. - Top: Lime, mandarin and bergamot - Heart: Pink Pepper - Base: Cedar, vetiver and moss

Hans says: That's different. I like it. It smells like... I want to say some sort of food. But maybe not. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I like it.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): In fact, I don't even know why we're driving. Let's walk!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Total demo: replace the cabinets, paint the walls, add a dumbwaiter, parquetry on the floor...

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Hint: before this moment, there were no east Texas properties. There were no Texas properties of any kind.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Nothing I put in here quite illustrated the bizarre twists some people came up with for how we were going to sell this stuff. I only hope I came close enough that you can feel the WTF waves coming off your computer screen.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): So there.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I have a vision of starting a line of t-shirts that say O&F and look like A&F. Wouldn't that be funny? I crack me up.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Berroco's Celestine Sox (free pattern), which also comes in a crochet version, in case you're Mary Kay.

§§FOOTNOTE (not two skeins, but one!): One skein of KPPPPPPPM in either the third colour from the right or the third colour from the left.

Why? What part of "feeble" did you not understand?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (and then there were giraffes): By my own definition.

##FOOTNOTE (pounding like the heart of a teenager in love): No wonder I like it! Super cool is my middle name.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one!

Secret Pal 12 Question 13...

...and, um, 14 through 17, apparently.

If you were told you could never again buy yarn, would would your last yarn purchase be?

Sheesh, I dunno. The anxiety I feel over that question† is somewhat mitigated by the comfort of knowing just how much yarn I have at home.‡

I'm not sure what the spirit of the question is -- do the PTB want to know what one single yarn I would buy? Or just how excessive and/or logical I would become?

If someone said, "Marin, all the yarn shops are closing tomorrow and they wouldn't take your money anyway," I'd buy a bunch of laceweight§ -- probably some nice alpaca and cashmere¶; a bunch of sweaters' worth# of nice wool and Therapi††; Shibui, Noro and Red Rocks Fiber Works sock yarn.

If you were told you could never knit again, what would be the last thing you’d knit??

I'd probably tackle a big, gorgeous lace shawl with an edging and all kinds of stuff I've been reading about but never got around to.

In a given year, how many times do you buy yarn?

There is no way to answer that question. My yarn-buying habits have no rhyme, reason, season or schedule. Which makes them not habits, I guess.

Who thought up this question? Do you know anyone who can answer that effectively?‡‡

And what is your favorite place to buy yarn from? A festival? A shop? Online? Dish your favorite places!§§

Knit Picks and Elann for when I need basic yarns.¶¶ Posh## for almost everything else, with the occasional forays into Knit/Purl or etsy shops for exotic yarn that makes me feel good 'cause it shows up in the mail and makes going to the mailbox worthwhile.

Lastly, with Fall in full swing in many areas, what is the one thing you look forward to most?

Pumpkins.

Pumpkin bread, pumpkin beer, pumpkin pie, pumpkin spices, pumpkin seeds, jack o' lanterns...
*************

We slacked off ever so slightly last week, but we did our push up assessment and I did 24@ good push ups.%

Of course, my partner in crime did thirty-fucking-five first round of the third week when she only had to do twenty-five... show off.^

Competition may be good for some of us. I plan to do thirty-five in my last set tonight just to show her.&

*************
I actually have several perfumes saved up in my spreadsheet,††† all sniffed and sussed and ready to present to you.

Without further ado...

French Love - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab (Bewitching Brews, the Conjure Bag)

Marin says: Non-descript floral and very bright fruit. I'm going to stop saying "kool-aid" and find some other synthetic, neon fruit analog. Perhaps jello? There's always room for jello.‡‡‡

It gets considerably duller in the roll-out (such as it is),§§§ with a sweet, slightly powdery density... and still a hint of jello.

BPAL says: A warm, soft, sexual blend.¶¶¶ Sweet and alluring. Used to entice new lovers and add an aura of temptation and carnal sin to your environment.###

Hans says: That's pretty floral. And kinda like kool-aid.††††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Why? What have you heard?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Lots. Lots of yarn. So much it has its own replacement value under my contents insurance.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Big, fancy projects, satisfyingly large yardage numbers.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Thin should be elegant. If it's just thin for the sake of thin, it's like fucking an ironing board. Hmmmmm... maybe that doesn't apply to yarn as well as it does to people.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Sweaters are big projects and if I changed my mind, I could use the yarn for several scarves and hats.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Yarn of rocks!

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I don't want to meet that person. He or she is too tightly wound for my floppy little world.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn it around): This had two exclamation points. Drove me crazy. Journalism taught me the only reason to use multiple bangs is for comic effect. I don't think this is funny.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (one foot in front of the other): Solid colour, worsted weight, probably superwash.

##FOOTNOTE (goin' to the pound): Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): 24!

I know what I said about exclamation points. I have always been a self-serving grammar hypocrite.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I am a complete stickler for form and distance. I think I did 27, but couldn't keep my butt out of the last three.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Another tangent: I started giggling because my college boyfriend (oddly, the same one that used to use the ironing board line quoted above... it's a big day for the college boyfriend) used to say, "Show off! Do some push ups... it'll go away" whenever I'd best him on something. Yes, that's a dick joke.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): Nyah-nyah-nyah.

†††FOOTNOTE (three! Three beautiful crosses! Mwahahahaha! *kkkchh* *EeeEeeEee*[lightning and bats - it works better in person]): Yes, there's a spreadsheet.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (I've been working on the railroad): Tangent: At a housewarming party this weekend, some of my old-line guy friends were talking about a guy's night out. Somewhere along the line, my name came up.

"Hey, if I'm invited, I'll be there."

"Of course," said Jack, "You're like jello. There's always room for Marin."

"Awww. That's really nice."

"Oh, he says that about you a lot," said Jen, Jack's wife. "Marin is like jello. We always have room for Marin."

Made my whole week.

§§§FOOTNOTE (180... 360... 540?): I'm fine-tuning my terminology. Not necessarily to fit terminology standards, but for my own thought process. See, most things you put on your wrist in the name of scent will change over time. Bits will fade. Some fade faster than other. I think of roll-out as an almost architectural exercise by the author of the perfume: it changes over time, but it is built to change -- probably in a particular way. It isn't just a matter of subtracting one note after the other until there's only the stickiest scent left. The oils tend to have that "survival of the fittest" deletion of elements, rather than what I think of as a true roll-out.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (footprints): WHAT?!

###FOOTNOTE (pound it... make it 'splode): At least you know why I bought it in the first place. I'm always looking to entice new lovers and add an aura of temptation and carnal sin to my environment.

††††FOOTNOTE (is this a record?): In case you think this has become overly-collaborative, there is a very strict code we follow in huffing scents: I grab a bunch of samples and put them on my desk at work. I pull those names from my spreadsheet and put them on a separate page with no notes or reviews to guide me. Hans and I pick from that list randomly. I put the stuff on and write my review. I take it to Hans and note his review. The object of the game is for both Hans and I to come up with our own uninfluenced assessments.

Sometimes, "kool-aid" is the only term that works.

Oh, The Pressure

TTHFCIF

Honestly.

I'm not even going to ask if it's just me. I have 137 blogs on my Google reader and all but maybe that dangling seven are experiencing blog malaise.

Ennui.

Meh, if you will.†

[SUMMARY: Blah.]

When everybody in the office is happy at once or cranky at once or singing the blues in chorus, I blame it on barometric pressure. It's the only thing I can think of we all have in common.

It may even have some basis in reality.

But when the whole blogosphere goes "meh" at once... blogometric pressure?

Blogs were pretty blogolicious last year at this time,‡ so it isn't back-to-school or a bandwagon-hop to football.

[SUMMARY: I'm out of ideas.]

I hope we all get better soon; this isn't nearly as much fun.

To cheer us up, some poetic spam§:

I in guava envoi marsh
CAwNaADIsAN PHaAsRMoACY SPeECIoAL
FwEMAaLE VmInAmGoRmA - $1.55
CrIvAnLnIcS - $1.96
LnEwVzIuTsRoA - $3.67
UuLwTsRwAmM - $0.43
SOeaMA - $0.47
But is steel¶
For be permeate rigorous nicely#

*************
I did more than the requisite push ups Wednesday night and am feeling pretty smug about my progress.†† Sunday, we'll re-assess our strength before moving on.

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

Tweedledum - Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs (Mad Tea Party)

Marin says: Like the scenttrack to a claymation holiday special.

This is weirdly vivid and synthetic like bright red Christmas candles from Hallmark on top of Glade Spiced Wine Plug-Ins and wet, crumpled pine, but with a hint of icy air blowing behind it.

It's either surprisingly dense for something with that much space behind it or surprisingly roomy for something with that much crowded in its front room.‡‡

And because I'm getting such a strong, sweet fruity thing, I'm going to guess there's honey and some kind of tropical fruit in it... or maybe orange blossom, which can smell like honeyed fruit.

BPAL says: Absurd! Green mango,$ fig, patchouli§§ and green tea.

Hans says: Christmas tree. With hot apple cider in the background. Christmas tree decorating party.¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And, oh, I think you will.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Yes, I checked. You would probably be surprised at how well researched this blog really is. Despite my not knowing "lede."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I never get spam like this. Most of my spam is Canadian bank spam. I'm a little in love with Canadian pharmacy spam. Canada is just a wonderful place with all the best spam. In guava envoi marsh...

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Don't click on that. I don't know where it's been.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Engrish!

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): We need a hubris pool for when the gods are going to smite me for that little comment.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Listen to me. Sounding just like I'm learning stuff about perfumes. If you could see how puffed up with pride I am that I got and USED the concept of space in regards to perfume... oh, you'd up your date in the hubris pool. You'd give me ten minutes, then run for cover before the lightning strikes.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one!

§§FOOTNOTE (my lil' head is just SPINNING!): Such a big lightbulb, so shiny... OK, I may not have picked patchouli out, but I'm guessing people with far more scent genius than I would recognise that the patchouli is that wet, piney space behind the sugary goop. I feel like I just discovered uranium or something.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (head and shoulders above): Never have Hans and I been so in accord. Even if he didn't pick out the space behind the sugary goop.

On the Whey

When you get four women together, you may have a hard time getting them to agree on anything.

We all agreed there would be excellent opportunity for many, many cheesemaking puns.

Actually, we didn't disagree on anything,† so it was a pretty good day.

eBeth, Annie, Tani and I convened in Tani's excellent group-cooking kitchen to make mozzarella. We decided ahead of time to each bring a gallon of milk and make four batches of cheese.

We used whole milk for the first batch and did it all by itself, figuring if we were going to screw something up, we should probably only screw up one batch.

[SUMMARY: We are smarter than some of us look.‡]

eBeth and Annie . . . Tani and Annie . . . eBeth and Tani




Indeed, the first batch didn't turn out all that great.§

No whey! Whey!



It tasted OK, but the texture left something to be desired. We took the troubleshooting notes to heart and launched into the next two batches.

Benjamin mused on.




The second and third batches came out very well, except that one was fat-free¶ and fat-free cheese just sucks even if you make it yourself.

[SUMMARY: This may only surprise me.]

The right one is whey bigger than the left. Sorry... that was just cheesy.



Applying all our skill and found wisdom, we launched into the last batch.

For those of you playing at home, you heat the milk with some citric acid. Once it gets to temperature, add the rennet and stir it and heat it.

Let it sit, then check to see if the whey has separated and the curd has formed.

Then you cut the cheese.#

It never o-curd to me I'd be on my whey to cutting the cheese.


Pedro sleeps on.




Once you cut the curds, you remove as much of the whey as possible, microwave it for a minute and *immediately* begin pulling it like taffy.††

Once it's smooth and shiny, you have cheese.‡‡




On the way home, there may be cranes. Exotic cranes in suburban locations.§§





And you get home and your Broncos play a weird but exciting game, ending in a win.%

Yeah, Sunday was a pretty good day.
*************

I fell short on my push ups last night. Something popped - not like I broke anything, more like I got a charlie horse in my trapezius - so I stopped. But I was only three short of the stated minimum, so I don't feel too bad.

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

Corinna - Cobalt Blends (oil)

Marin says: *sigh*¶¶ You know what this reminds me of most? Erythromicin in a bubble gum-sweet suspension I had to take when I had ear infections as a kid. It is a very pink sweet with a slightly medicinal smell behind it.

As it spread out, the medicinal smell bubbled up and it smelled a little like chlorine. We're in the neighbourhood of kool-aid and bleach.

Surprisingly, an hour later, it smelled like a florist's shop - not flowers, per se, but that cold, wet, green smell of cuttings and freon with an embroidery of crushed petals.

Cobalt Blends says: In 16 BC, the Latin poet Ovid published a book called Amores, an erotic tribute to the elusive Corinna.## Centuries later, Corinna has been the subject of many versions of a traditional song. A sassy note of almond slides into a lingering blend dripping with honey††† and a honeycomb essence vanilla accord. Warm, womanly, very sexy.‡‡‡

Hans says: It's definitely something alcohol. Gin. Well, not gin, but pine. And some sort of cleaning supply.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): It just made such a good lead. Or "lede," as I've come to know it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I'm not naming names.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Brainssssss!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The other was 2%, which was considerably better. We didn't test quite enough variables against quite enough control groups, but it appears the brand of milk may have made a difference. Tani's organic whole milk used in the first batch may also have been a victim of greater heating, which kills the bacteria needed to make cheese -- you can't use ultra-pasteurised, so it generally has to be local and not organic. Annie's fat free Royal Crest home-delivery milk exhibited symptoms not only of being fat free, but it did this weird marbling thing after it was dunked in ice water. The 2% and whole Lucerne batches were by far the best.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): You *knew* that was coming. You would have been terribly disappointed if it didn't.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): We think part of the problem with the first batch may also have been that we took it out of the microwave, donned gloves, read instructions, THEN pulled it.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I left out a couple of details in the name of keeping you from falling asleep on your keyboard and typing njnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn with your nose.

§§FOOTNOTE (cranes twisting in the breeze): Pulled over, stopped the car, made an effort. How long has it been since you saw a crane here?

%FOOTNOTE (percented): By "you," I mean, "I." Your cheesemaking experience may be different and may not involve the Broncos at all.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (bonk bonk): Mostly because I'm stuck in a perfume rut right now. With any luck, one of the randomly-chosen scents over the next few days will perk me up and make smelling worthwhile again.

##FOOTNOTE (let me pound this into your head): Apparently, Cobalt didn't read the same version of research on Amores we did, since Wiki says it's a parody of the erotic poetry of the day. Or maybe Cobalt got it right on, and this is an absurdist parody of sexy.

†††FOOTNOTE (xxx): What's up with this? I love the smell of honey. I've had honey body wash and honey dust that were lovely. Perfumes that say they smell of honey... don't. In my vast experience, they smell of kool-aid.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (double-triple-x): Don't get me started on "sexy." I just participated in a blustering, incoherent way in a discussion on the term "sexy" being applied to everything from shoes (which can be sexy, but not all of them) to tires (which can't be sexy without the aid of a distinct fetish). I'm growing tired to the point of over-sensitive of sexy meaning any level mundane goodness rather than actually sexy. Cripes... it must be time for my meds.

A Walk in the Woods

I went to a magical place on Saturday.

I'd be tempted to sing a Disney walk-in-the-woods song of some sort, but it was on beyond Disney, magic-wise.

A couple of months ago, I started catching glimpses of a wondrous new restaurant, Beatrice & Woodsley, in various local mags and rags. The compelling part of most of the reviews went something like this:

"Wow. You've never seen anything like it! You have to see this place! There's no other restaurant in the universe that even comes close! Words can't describe!"

And I shouted at the cold, unblinking Internet reviews, "TRY!"

So about a month ago, I was sitting at the Coral Room† with Bag Lady Katharyn and Her Friend Sue, and Her Friend Sue started talking about this wonderful place and something she said made me sit up and say, "Is this Beatrice & Woodsley?"

"Yes! Have you been?"

"No, but I've read all these reviews and I'm dying to see what it looks like!"

"We should go to brunch this weekend!"

"Yes! Yes we should!"

But Bag Lady Katharyn is oddly resistant to the potential charms of Beatrice & Woodsley, and since it isn't my friend Sue, but Her Friend Sue,‡ we didn't go.

A couple of weeks ago, Tani said we should get together before her baby comes, so I jumped at the chance.

"Have you been to Beatrice & Woodsley? Have you heard of Beatrice & Woodsley? Can we go to Beatrice & Woodsley? They have high tea at Beatrice & Woodsley... we should go to Beatrice & Woodsley for tea! Here, have a weblink!"

Tani loves me and is always happy to save me from myself, so we went.

And it's lovely. Unusual and lovely.

The windows are tinted yellow to give that warm, slanted autumn light to the restaurant.§ Aspen trunks grouped in twos and threes punctuate rustic elements of raw wood, kerosene lanterns and antique pot-bellied stoves in the front parlour¶ where we sat.






There's a long, cosy dining area that parallels the bar and features horseshoe booths separated by muslin panels.

The bar has chinked wood strips behind it, and chainsaws are embedded in logs to create supports for the shelves that hold the liquor bottles.

Despite all this Little House on the Prairie imagery, it doesn't feel rustic in the slightest. I don't know how they did it, but I want to buy their decorator a drink. It's chic and modern and warm and I just loved it.

The food was good too... amazing, even. We shared a Double Windsor and a mushroom pasty.# We both agree we want to go back and that it's a place to take someone who's seen it all.

"I'd bring Tina here," said Tani, which is the ultimate in destination compliments.

Tani's friend Tina has cut my six degrees to most of the celebrity world by several degrees. She was Avril Lavigne's personal assistant and has done the PA thing for other celebrities. She lives in Sidney, and trots the globe and goes to all the best places.

Tani would bring Tina to Beatrice & Woodsley because it would impress her.

When we were done, Tani had to go to the bathroom.

"I'm going with you. I don't even have to pee, but I have to see what the bathroom looks like."

View from the toilet



The cove where the bathroom doors are is completely panelled in pieced rough wood. The doors don't look like doors... there's just a giant doorknob,†† and when you pull it, a portion of the wall opens.

The bathroom is a largely unadorned room. Toilet paper hangs from the ceiling and the walls are tiled in a grey-white brick pattern. All the light is provided by the golden glow of several transluscent bricks in the wall. There's no sink, no mirror, just a toilet and a half-log up against the wall that serves as a stool.

The sinks are in the entryway to the bathrooms, two zinc tubs flanked by pulleys and overhung by bead chains. When you pull the left pulley, the sound of gurgling and flowing water rings above your head, and after a moment, the water runs down the chains.





Once you've washed your hands, a tug on the left pulley closes the tap. The whole time you wash your hands, you're looking through tree branches over glass into the restaurant.

We were *so* glad we went to the bathroom.
*************

OK, these fucking push ups *hurt*.‡‡

Right, right, in a good way.

And I may be kidding myself, but yesterday I could've sworn I saw some shoulders in the mirror.

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

Midnight Tryst - Neil Morris (Vault - edp)

Marin says: Eeep! The first whiff was strong and wrong. Not bad-bad, just not anything I really like in a perfume. It reminds me of Tabu, which was the perfume of choice of a woman I babysat for and it always hit me hard when I walked into her house.§§

I can't pick out a lot of notes. It's very like the wild aldehyde days of the 40's and 50's and I personally don't care for the chemical vanillas and medicinal roses that manifest in Chanel No. 5, Joy, Tabu and, say, Midnight Tryst.

We gave it a few minutes and, basically, it smells the same, just mellower. Some vanilla came up from the depths and is keeping some of the sharper scents round.

Strangely, what I get from typing distance is cat pee. That's unpleasant.

Neil Morris says: An intoxicating and sexy scent with Top Notes of Cinnamon and Clove, Heart Notes: French Narcissus, Gardenia, Magnolia and Rose$ and Base Notes: Amber, Patchouli, Benzoin,¶¶ Dark Vanilla,$ Musk, Castoreum$ and Civet.$

Hans says: Old fashioned.

[upon letting it sit]

Yeah... it's mellowed, but it's still an aldehyde.##


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I bet you're shocked I was at the Coral Room.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I like Sue, and I'd bet Sue might even be game to go to Beatrice & Woodsley with me without Katharyn, but I don't know her phone number. Or her last name.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): My living room is painted Antique Gold (I was going to link you to the Sherwin Williams colour, but it doesn't appear to exist) for this very effect.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): That's what I'm calling it, anyway.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which I pronounced "pay-stee" even though it's "past-ee" and it was spectacular by any name. Mushrooms and roasted onions on one end merging with figs and blue cheese on the other. The wonderful waiter suggested we eat from the savoury end to the sweet end for a complete flavour journey.

I just drooled a little.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Bigger than a softball. Maybe not quite as big as a bowling ball, but pushing it.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Not helped by a tricky elbow from knitting and mousing. whinewhinewhine

§§FOOTNOTE (strangling vortices of Tabu): I was horrified when she gave me a Christmas present the first year I worked for them and it turned out to be a Tabu gift set, complete with lotion and fragrant powder. Which, of course, I had to wear occasionally so she could smell my gratitude.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two heads better than one): Maybe one of my perfumista buddies can help me out here: when I don't know what a note is, I Google it. I usually end up on Wikipedia. Wiki says benzoin has a light camphor odour, so I always think "benzoin" when I smell camphor in a perfume. But I've recently been hipped to Nathan Branch, and he constantly refers to benzoin as a sweet resin. Sweet or camphor? Resin or medicine? Anybody? Bueller? Bueller?

##FOOTNOTE (pounding the lingo right into Hans): Isn't it cute how far he's come?

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! Well, if you credit "cat pee" to one of the animal anal secretions, which I do.

'Atsa Lotsa

TTHFCIF

So did you like that tease yesterday?

Didja spend many happy hours daydreaming about the possibilities†... over-the-top cocktails, ten-course gourmet dinners, celebrity parties, a meeting with the King of Burundi, wild naked romps?‡

I should've been a marketing major.

This weekend, I am...

*drumroll*

[SUMMARY: The suspense is killing you.§]

...making cheese.

Mozzarella, to be exact.

Did you just what-the-fuck and smack your computer? Sorry 'bout that. I know it's not glamourous, but it's sufficiently odd enough to blog it.¶

A couple of months ago, The Book Club that Changed the World# read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.

Barbara makes cheese.

Now I want to make cheese.††

So I sent away for the beginner's cheesemaking kit% and book^ and Annie and Tani and eBeth and I are going to make cheese on Sunday.

The first big object lesson in making your own cheese is finding the only way to get milk that isn't ultra-pasteurised is to buy a local brand.

I think there's a "duh" in there somewhere.@

The nice man‡‡ at Robinson's Dairy asked me why I wanted non-ultra-pasteurised milk. I told him you can't make cheese with ultra-pasteurised milk.

I could almost hear the lightbulb go off over his head.

"We've had a few calls lately about that and I had no idea why people were looking for it. That makes sense."

Which means maybe we're not the only people in Denver making cheese this weekend.

Small world.§§
*************
I did my push ups last night. I did ten extra. My butt is killing me.

By the end of this thing, my butt is going to be a veritable stone globe. Not only do I work my butt really hard in the interest of keeping my alignment correct for push ups, I spend roughly 48 hours during football season clenching and doing reverse squats as I drive my team to victory.

I may not play football, but never let it be said I don't participate.

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

Wanda - BPAL (oil)

Marin says: I'm trying to teach myself not to be surprised when there's a roll-out on oils. I had convinced myself that the primary difference between the BPAL oils and "real" perfumes is the lack of construction. But I guess anything that has more than one ingredient is subject to those ingredients degrading at different rates.

The first blast of Wanda smelled very strongly of a deep, sour red wine before turning into a rose-and-sandalwood sort of smell.

Funny, from an impressionistic distance, it weirdly fruity, like Fruit Stripe gum. What is the alcohol and fake fruit thing?¶¶

Up close, I'm getting an unpleasant licorice and ylang-ylang## I can't abide. If it doesn't improve in a few minutes, I'm washing my arms.

For the record, it did mellow out, but too strong and too sweet for my taste. Enough that I forgot about it and left it until late that night, when it was a ho-hum sweet smell clinging tenaciously to my wrists.

One thing you have to say about the oils: they do stick.

BPAL says: Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes, Wanda is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch's fantasies. Her scent is a deep red Merlot$ with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses,$ violets and myrtle.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's me, centre of your universe.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): In order of probability.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may kill me when you see how far I've led you astray.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Keeping in mind that I thought tennis racquets as party favours was good enough to blog. It's a slow season for everybody, isn't it?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Not as grandiose as it sounds. I made them read The Map that Changed the World early in our history and it was almost universally reviled. This led to the tongue-in-cheek name and the very serious rule that we never, ever read a geology book again.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): See, the book problem doesn't just cover a life overrun with books, it covers the collateral damage my checking account takes with every new book-driven whim I chase.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Which I think of as Fisher Price My First Mozzarella.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Naturally.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): 'Cause, y'know... the book is about eating locally.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Pat.

§§FOOTNOTE (stir your curds): Still wouldn't want to paint it.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (heads up!): See: One Leaf Clove

##FOOTNOTE (lb lb): I generally like licorice. Maybe in conjunction with ylang-ylang it becomes bad.

What's All the Racquet?

I'm tired, I didn't do my push ups last night...†

But I do have a kind of funny story.‡

OK, I think it's funny.§

See, Dz is moving¶ to California.# We had a going-away gathering at the Coral Room last night.

Dz used to coach at a summer tennis camp for disadvantaged children.†† Head‡‡ sponsored it, and Dz has an assload of leftover Head racquets, many of which she brought to the party.

"Maybe I can give them out like party favours," she said.

Every time someone new joined the festivities, she'd grab the stack of racquets and say, "Care for a racquet?" in a totally deadpan way. Indeed, I don't think she was trying to be funny, which made it all the more charming.

It seemed like such a delightfully oddball thing to say it continued to tickle me right up until I kissed Dz goodbye and sent her on her way.

[SUMMARY: Giggling through tears is one of my favourite emotions.§§]

Tune in tomorrow 'cause you'll never guess what I'm doing this weekend.
*************

Tea for Two - L'Artisan Parfumeur

Marin says: I got nothing but smoke. Not good woodfire or incense, but stale ashtray.

It only lasted about an hour, which is bad for a perfume, but probably good for a perfume that makes you smell like a church basement after an AA meeting.

L'Artisan says: It begins with the curling, rising steam of Lapsung-Souchong [sic]¶¶ tea. All the notes are orchestrated around the smoke$ and wooded scents to create a more fiery and warmer sensation. The sweet, fresh, spicy facets reveal the delicious delights of honey.

Both voluptuous and spicy, it is a marvellous tea for your skin!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Hey, I just have to do it three days a week. I'll do them tonight and Saturday and I can get back to the MWF schedule I'd figured on when we started this thing. You may feel free to shame me like the family pig if I come in tomorrow without having done push ups.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Tired, no push ups and funny story are all related.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): We all know how suspect my sense of humour is.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This isn't the funny part.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): With her boyfriend who, I think, is an actor. I find that wildly adventurous in a Hollywood script kinda way.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Or something. I think she described it as "teaching tennis to kids who wouldn't have anything else to do if they weren't playing tennis."

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Heheheheh.

§§FOOTNOTE (twisting words): All apologies to Dolly Parton.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one!

¶¶FOOTNOTE (poking my head up just enough...): I have it on good authority Lapsang is a very smoky tea. I also have it on good authority that the spelling is L-a-p-s-a-n-g.

This is the Blog that Never Ends†

My favourite part of last night‡ was when Mike Ditka said JaMarcus Russell was retarded.§

I'm pretty sure that's not very Christian or saintly, but I'm pretty sure I can scrape up some good Satan-based¶ scripture to support my views on the Raiders.

[SUMMARY: St. Marin, my ass.#]

I did, however have a pretty saintly encounter with the push ups last night, and today they hurt.

I fear Wednesday.

[SUMMARY: I bet there's a Greek name for Fear of Push Ups on Wednesday.%]

Hans is gone to Lusk again until Friday. Let us revel in his last perfume review and count the days until he returns.
*************

One Leaf Clove - Cobalt Blends (oil)

Marin says: Ook. At first glance, it's kinda awful. There's a pleasant enough (if banal) floral with a touch of wood to it... but fighting it is a synthetic, kool-aid fruit smell, like something a four-year-old inexplicably likes in his breakfast cereal.

Fortunately, that dissolves away fairly quickly, leaving just a tangy hint in the background under a bed of soft rose cupping a light clove with maybe a touch of bitter orange. But you only get that snorking right up on the wrist -- the impressionistic distance†† is still a little sweet and definitely unremarkable.

Confession: I really loved this around midnight.‡‡ After a long day of wallowing in bed and watching football, it was a really rich, slightly dirty cocoa that made my mouth water.

Scent Scribbles says:§§ Clove, fig, juicy blood orange,$ peach,$ oakmoss and a gossamer drizzle of honey.$

Hans says: Lavender and lemon


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You'd think that some days, when I had nothing to say, I'd just shut up. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed):




§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, that and the final score.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If Al Davis isn't Satan, I don't know who is.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Do saints say "ass"?

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Ectaco.com tells me ΑΝΕΒΆΖΩ is Greek for push up, but all the sites agree there are no Wednesdays in Greece. So I have Anebazophobia on Wednesdays.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's the important part. It's what I smell when I'm typing, for instance, or what you might smell if you ran into me at the grocery store.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): That's a long time to wait for the yummy.

§§FOOTNOTE (supply and demand curves): Cobalt Blends no longer has a description, since it was a limited edition. And now you have a good idea of why I bought it. Such a sucker.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! Mostly becaues I'm counting peach + honey drizzle = Fruity Pebbles.

Bingo Wings and Pneumatic Boobs

We interrupt our normal blog program to bring you this special, self-serving announcement:

I'm going to do 100 push ups.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Probably not next week.

But within six weeks, I intend to be able to do 100 push ups in a row, with good form.†

I'm guessing there aren't two among you who have any idea of my fearful relationship with push ups.‡

I've never done one. Not once. Not full body.

[SUMMARY: I am wuss, hear me roar.]

And, given my experience of the last few days, never any of any kind with any thought of form... just the idea of getting off the ground and back, alignment be damned.§

So one of my imaginary friends¶ and I were discussing the state of our nearly middle-aged boobs and she directed me to the 100 Push Up Training Program.

Which led to some tentative talk of *doing* the 100 Push Up Training Program.

Which led to the stunning revelation that I work best under the twin umbrellas of humiliation and concrete goals.#

[SUMMARY: Thus, the public display of bravado.]

So Thursday or Friday, I tried to do my first push up since the sixth grade.% And found, indeed, doing a full-body push up with good form simply ain't happening for the time being. But those kneesy ones, those I can do.

Nine with impeccable form, to be exact.††

Your job, and you have no choice but to accept, because it's my blog, is to provide the proper accountability for me so I don't just give up and go watch America's Next Top Model instead of doing push ups.

[SUMMARY: Your job is easier than mine.]

So Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,‡‡ I will be proceeding through the 100 Push Ups program. I will give brief reports the following days to chart my progress and give you a chance to mock me if I slack off.

Imaginary Friend will be there to commiserate... and humiliate. I'm to kick her in the ass if she needs it, she's to make fun of me and my girly weakness if I need it.

ETA: OK, she mentioned me, so she's not *that* ashamed to be seen doing push ups with me. Juno, Enchantress Extraordinaire and Master of the Seventeen Push Ups is my partner in crime. She has a perfume database too, so... y'know... kindred spirits.

Even if she doesn't have a girl crush on Sarah Palin like I do.^

AND reading her post reminded me that y'all should probably check out the pantyhose for men site. There are some inspiring pictures (Kim, meet Fred) and some prose to make you wonder if they can keep a straight face.

You guys just have to check it out.

[SUMMARY: Such excitement!]

Oh, stop. You're going to be jealous when I do my 100 push ups and my nipples are saluting the Blue Angels insted of the garden slugs.

And my bingo wings shall flap no more forever...
*************

Dzongkha - L'Artisan Perfumeur

Marin says: Holy shit. Rum.

Before the alcohol fizzled away, it was all rum, that slightly sickly flat-Coke smell of fermented sugarcane. Then it faded to... rum and coke, a slightly spicier, darker version of the last bookmark.

Then it was a Cuba Libre: rum and coke with a lime. Then it got really spicy: pepper, nutmeg, pepper, bay leaf, pepper. With just a hint of rum and lime in the background.

Later yet, it turned to little but pepper up close, with a little something sweet and nearly floral from an impressionistic distance. Mmmmm.

Then on the next tick, it turned into a soft wood with pepper and a hint of something warm -- amber? Incense resin? But light enough that even I, with my head shop hang-ups, like it. The aggregate is a lot like rich cedar and distant flowers.

Just before bed, I inhaled deeply and got a very nice woody floral. Nothing remarkable about the scent but that it was still there so many hours later.

L'Artisan says: A bewildering fragrance$ inspired by the Kingdom of Bhutan, by the odors of stones and incense from the temples, of leather, spicy chai tea and opulent nature. An invitation to spirituality and an inside journey.

This enveloping fragrance speaks to both women and men and tells a unique story on each skin: that of Dzongkha, the language of Bhutan.§§

Hans says: Dude, that smells like booze. Rum. [letting the alcohol wisp away]. It's totally rum. It smells like my house in college.

[later]

Wow. That's totally changed. Now it's spicy. It's totally spicy and... peppery.¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Good form is key. Without good form, I can do push ups in the style of a banked trout until the cows come home.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I find them terribly intimidating. I don't know why I picked push ups as my Waterloo, but it's been that way forever. And I've never even done one. Hey... maybe it's fear of the unknown more than fear of being bested by something a ten-year-old can do with aplomb.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): See: banked trout

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm not outing her without her consent. She may not want to be publicly associated with such a wimp. Besides, rumour has it she can do 17 push ups. 17 *real* push ups. And she's taller than me (yes, that makes a difference -- look up your basic physics and get back to me). I have tricep envy.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): 'Cause, you know, without humiliation, I'm released to my own recognizance and my own recognizance would just as soon be drinking Grey Goose. And without concrete goals, I'm perfectly comfortable dismissing the humiliation in the name of ambiguity ("How was I supposed to know what you wanted of me, O my shame? Did you not fail to provide me with a number and a schedule?")

%FOOTNOTE (percented): And I don't remember the President's Council on Physical Fitness being all that worried about form.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): And a tenth in classic banked-trout style.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Starting tonight.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Minus the guns, people. Minus the guns.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Ha! Got one! What? Did you not think I was bewildered?

§§FOOTNOTE (sugarcane fumes): Does Bhutan do rum?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (eight iron): I love it when we're on the same page. BTW -- I use "eight iron" in my description because Hans almost got a hole-in-one off an eight at the Santa Fe Country Club Saturday. It's an homage.