This is My Pig Nose

A funny perfume story: I've learned not to use my right wrist when reviewing perfumes.

All day, it sits on my glow-in-the-dark pig rest,† and the pig rest has taken on all my perfumes. So my right wrist smells entirely different from my left wrist, and not at all like the perfume I put on that morning.

[SUMMARY: I'm making my own perfume.]

A funny knitting story: I've only knit one sweater before‡ and it was top-down and seamless, so the Vampirates sweater with set-in sleeves is new territory.

This was never more obvious than when I knit up the first sleeve and tried to figure out how it would fit into the armhole and realised§ I hadn't knit the shoulder cap.

I had to un-bindoff and finish the thing properly.

[SUMMARY: When dorks knit sweaters.]

A funny book story: I came back from the bathroom¶ at 4:00 this morning to find Cat for Scale lovingly licking the edges of the pages of the second Vampirate book. I wash my hands before I read it,# so I don't think there's residual food anywhere.

Weird little cat.

[SUMMARY: Weird little household.]

I believe that covers that covers all the major hobbies. Except drinking.††

We're clear for the day -- I'm going to go wash my pig.
*************
Clair de Musc - Serge Lutens (edp)

Marin says: Perfume. Kind of non-descript and remarkable only in that it had no alcohol or aldehyde edge and an undefinable sweet smell.

I've had conversation recently that musk may not be quite the animal/sexual smell I thought it was -- everything I've smelled that says musk lately seems to be sweet like baby powder. Not my cup of tea.

The Perfumed Court says: A floral-woody-musk fragrance with notes of delicate orange blossom and white iris from Tuscany.

Hans says: Definitely soapy, but a particular soap... *sniff*

Dove. *sniff*

Dove lotion bar.††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): With 45 hearts!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Green Gable.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Only two days later!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): That damned pee-every-time-I-roll-over thing.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It is, technically, someone else's book. And he hasn't even seen it yet, so I have to keep it neat and clean.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I think I will now have a drink.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I actually don't have a footnote. Just wanted to say hey to Lyda, who was worried when there were no footnotes yesterday. I know she has a system and everything.

Lovely.

It's a lovely day.

I could bitch about work, but it's a lovely day.

I could bitch about the DNC, but it's a lovely day.

I could bitch about repetitive knitting injuries, but it's a lovely day.

And the Vampirates books are *outstanding*

And I just learned how to use gmail chat.

And I'm done with the four square feet of black stockinette on the Vampirates sweater and I'm allowed to start the skull with joy and no four square feet of black stockinette hanging over my head.

And Genius Sarah said my four square feet of black stockinette is amazing.

So let's just call it a good day. Only I have to get back to work.

And gmail chat.
*************
Fleurs d'Oranger - Serge Lutens (edp)

Marin says: ORANGE BLOSSOM!

I'm pretty sure I already told you this story, but when I was 14, we drove to Cali for spring break. On the way, we stopped to visit my godparents in Scottsdale. When we got out of the car in April in Scottsdale, I thought it the most magical thing ever -- the whole world smelled of flowers. I made appreciative noises and Mom said, "Those are orange blossoms."

Within about ten minutes, I was a little over orange blossoms. By day three, the smell of orange blossoms nauseated me.

It's a largely pleasant smell, sweet but natural and a tiny bit tangy, but it's enveloping to me. It's thick and I just can't get away from it. I'm a little dizzy right now. Wait... now it smells like tuberose. Or jasmine. I can't tell the difference off the tip of my nose.

Huh.

Give it a couple of hours and it's almost gone. What's left is a hint of fleurs and a touch of something woody.

The Perfumed Court says: A stunning Floriental fragrance that blends orange flower blossoms, white jasmine and tuberose from India along with white rose, green notes, musk, cumin and nutmeg.

Hans says: It smells earthy. Like incense. Does that make sense? It's incensy. I don't know how to spell that.

I Changed My Mind Again: I'm Running Away from Home

I've been blithely drifting along, secure in the knowledge that Barack Obama will be on the other end of downtown next week, so I'll be unlikely to be caught in a tear gas attack or a fecal fling.

I'd completely blocked how close Civic Center Park is to my office:




Civic Center Park is where Recreate '68† will stage many of their disruptive activities.‡ I'm guessing it's the most likely site for tear gassing.

[SUMMARY: Hoping for winds out of the north.]

That's OK -- our crack office building security team has been practicing turning the HVAC system off and they can do it in under a minute.§

And we'll have total lockdown if necessary to maintain safety and security.§

Never in my life did I want to have to think about this shit.

I'm laying in a supply of Cheetos and vodka in my desk.

Just in case.
*************
Chinatown - Bond No. 9

Marin says: Interesting. It falls somewhere between incense and the candle department at a Hallmark store.

My first impression was, "Christmas," because it reminds me of those bayberry candles so popular with the Yankee Candle set during the holidays. This should be a bad thing, but I actually like it. It starts out a little too Kool-Aid fruity, but mellows into a sandalwoody, floral fruit. I'm thinking jasmine or tuberose¶ over sandalwood.

Yeah, I should probably hate this, but it's not too bad. It gets more woody as time goes on and it's almost as much cedar as sandalwood -- dry, rather than sweet. I still smell like a new age gift shop a little, but a *sophisticated* new age gift shop.

Bond No. 9 says: Superpower Meets Supercity: The Emerging Superpower Energy with the Avant Garde Cachet of downtown New York. NOTES: Peach blossoms, gardenia, tuberose, patchouli, cardamom#

The Perfumed Court says: A Floriental†† with top notes of peach blossom and bergamot; middle notes of peony, gardenia, tuberose,$ and orange flower; and base notes of patchouli, cedarwood,$ vanilla, sandalwood,$ guaiac wood‡‡ and cardamom.

Hans says: Sweet like... there's something it smells like... potpourri dish! Like fresh-dried potpourri, if that makes sense. Not like a Glade Plug-in, but the actual bowl.§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And their brethren and sistren of all ilks.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I'm not being snarky or Republican here. They actually have a sister site to recreate68.com called DNC Disruption 08.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Simultaneously horrifying and comforting. On the plus side, we may be able to watch rioters from the locked-down, air-free safety of our own office windows.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Because, while I'm sure jasmine and tuberose are different, I can't tell the difference... maybe I could if they were right next to each other. I dunno. I've never seen them in the same room together. They could be the Batman and Bruce Wayne of flowers.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm quoting. The capitals are all theirs.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I'm pretty sure that's a semi-technical term, but it sounds gratingly cutesy to me every time I say it in my head.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): What an education. If you put guaiac into Wikipedia, one of the options is stool guaiac test, which tests for fecal occult blood, which sounds like something Recreate '68 might be planning for Civic Center Park. Also? Oil of guaiac was a pre-Renaissance remedy for syphillis. You will never get that question on Jeopardy.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn turn): I'm so glad I work with Hans.

I Haven't Had My Coffee Yet...

...so the contract rider involving "Sheep Tight Fences" seems really funny.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

Despite the rain, I didn't get much knitting done Saturday.

You'd think the dark, raininess would be the perfect backdrop to a day of cosying up in the recliner with a ball of string, male swimmers on the TiVi and maybe a hot toddy of some sort.†

Just look at that knitting weather! And this is the sunniest it got all day!




[SUMMARY: Yes, I'm really talking about the weather.]

And the sharpest among you might put together the reason there was so little knitting:‡ I was at work. The lack of urgency by those providing the work has created panic on the back end§ and I was in the office on Saturday.

And Sunday.

And that's OK. Once in awhile, I like to do something that makes me feel really self-righteous like work on Saturday. And Sunday.

I always be sure to send a couple of emails out on the company account so people *know* I was working on Saturday.¶ And Sunday.

[SUMMARY: There's a Loverboy re-mix in there somewhere.]

Anyway, despite all the work, it was a refreshingly knitterly day.

I started out by going to the grand opening of the brand new Origins store in Cherry Creek. I'm not a subscriber to the Cult of Origin,# but they sent coupons in the mail -- one for $25 and one for a free medium whatever-you-want-to-drink from their coffee shop.

No purchase necessary.

As I drove in on empty streets, I figured the rainy weather might keep the crowds down.

Ha!

I got my tea and wandered around a little. The crowds made it too miserable to do any real power-shopping, which is good for me. I probably could've talked myself into a couple hundred dollars' worth of products if I'd had the time to lollygag around the store and talk to the nice salespeople.

So that was one nice thing. I got my $22.50 tube of moisturising body wash†† and stood in line.

And stood in line.

And stood in line.

[SUMMARY: Never underestimate the power of a free $25.]

And started to wonder if I was in danger of getting a parking ticket in the 2-hour space I'd nabbed.

And started thinking I should have called Tani to see if she wanted to stand in line because these things are tolerable with good company.

And started to think about giving up. At my per-hour wage, $25 didn't seem like that big a draw anymore. But there's that point where you feel you've invested too much time, or you're sure the registers are going to speed up any time or maybe the woman with the four kids is going to get tired of the whining and just GO...‡‡

Then the lady in line behind me started talking to me. Small talk. Then I held her place while she went and got some tea. Then she held my place while I went to the bathroom.

Would you believe we were halfway through the line before she said, "I'd much rather be home knitting right now."

I said, "Me too!"

Then she told me how she was getting errands done in the morning so she could sit in front of the Olympics in the afternoon, and I told her I was heading to work and when I told her I'm in the oil business, it turns out she's from Oklahoma and worked in the industry for quite some time.

Then she said, kinda timidly, "Were you just joking when you said you'd rather be knitting?"

"Oh, no. I'd *much* rather be knitting!"

So we talked about knitting and the hours passed pleasantly until we got to the front of the line.%

Isn't the world a marvelous place sometimes?

*************
Omanthe Yunnan - Hermes

Marin says: So light.

There's some very light floral and fruit, but I can't tell what kind. It smells a little like carnation, but not as cold, and with something a tiny bit deepter and woodier on top -- not that this is a woody scent, but maybe leaves. Or bamboo. Which is what I think of every time I think of a watery wood.

It's incredibly light, but that very light cloud gusts in every now and then so I know it's still there. When I nuzzle my wrists, there's almost nothing, yet there's... something. I'm not sure if I'm in a zen place or I just don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

The Perfumed Court says: Tea, flowers$ and fruit.$ Osmanthe Yunnan is smooth and tart, with a lasting tea note that is perfect for occasions when you want an original perfume that is not heavy, but lasts.

Hans says: I like that one. It's light. It's... I can't put my finger on it. It's refreshing.§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And you'd be right.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 'Cause, y'know... you'd notice that was taken out my office window.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I am the back end. I'm always the back end. Some day, when I grow up, I want to be the front end.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Passive-aggressive, anyone?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I didn't know there was one until I was invited onto their mothership.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I don't know. It was an impulse. It was free.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And by "you," I mean, "I."

%FOOTNOTE (percented): It also didn't hurt that Origins people kept bringing around Origins things to keep us entertained while we waited. There was the hand massage and the spearmint refresher stuff and these:





A trial-size tube of their most popular product, a sachet (it's zippered! I can use it again!) filled with lavender and roses and a blackberry bran muffin. That's all that's left of the blackberry bran muffin. I was hungry when I got to the office.

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

§§FOOTNOTE (the world keeps turning): I'm giving Hans credit for that -- tea is refreshing, isn't it?

Not My Tale to Tell

TTHFCIF

So Favourite Bartender had a birthday last Friday.† I took him a bottle of wine on Saturday and he told me this very funny story:

He and his girfriend and a bunch of friends were bar-hopping LoDo,‡ when someone said, "Hey, let's go to the titty bar!"%

Brooks's first blush was to worry what his girfriend would think, but she was all for it.

So they went to La Bohème. And someone bought Brooks a lap dance.

The lap dancer sat him down, turned her back to him, straddled him, bent over, then... walked away.

Everybody just sat for a moment, sure she was coming back.

Nope.

[SUMMARY: Customer service in this country is just going down the tubes.]

As the disgruntled lap dancee, Brooks went to the manager and turned on the charm and drama,§ "My friends paid their hard-earned money to buy me a lap dance... on my BIRTHDAY..."

The manager was largely unmoved by the tragic tale, saying, "Yeah, we'll check the film later. Here's a voucher for your lap dance."

And he gave Brooks a coupon.

Saturday night at the bar, he said, "So... what? I'm supposed go up to any stripper and say, 'I have a coupon...'"

I really wish I could've snapped a pic of the lap dance voucher for you.

I really, really wish I could've gotten some video of Brooks saying, "I have a coupon" in that mildly retarded, slack jawed voice he used.

But it's funny anyway.

[SUMMARY: Well, laugh.]

*************
Borneo 1834 - Serge Lutens (edp)

Marin says: I have a history with this perfume.

See, when I professed my love for patchouli, eBeth told me about this in the comments. Marin be Marin, I rushed over to The Perfumed Court to order some.

A few days later, eBeth and I were at Book Club and she produced hers from her pocket so I could try it. I put a dab on the back of my hand. I started out surreptitiously nuzzling the scented spot, but went to full-on, devil-may-care public snorking as the night wore on. I think I spent a good five minutes doing meditative breathing on it when I got in bed that night.

It was wet as wet could be, like the richest black earth and wet wood just after a rain. The patchouli wove in and out of it with great sensuality and depth. I was enamoured.

Mine arrived in the mail shortly thereafter and went into the heart-shaped perfume dish on my dresser.

It was raining this morning, so I thought it would be a perfect mood accessory. I sprayed some on my wrists and fantasised about a day of secret wrist love.

Disappointment.

It went on in a burst of cocoa.¶ Then it deflated. Now it's just kind of flat. And not that wet. Dusty, even. And the patchouli... I don't really get patchouli so much.

I have theories (those of you who already heard my theories can skip to Hans's review -- I know that's why most of you tune in anyway):

1. Mine sat for several hours in my mailbox. Maybe it got hot and degraded a little.
2. eBeth gets the little sample vials with the toothpick-like wand in them. I get little spray bottles. Maybe spraying it caused a lot of air to mix in or a finer, thinner coating of scent.
3. Actually, I thought maybe I was in a different place in my cycle last time, but last time was July 16, so it's right about the same time, hormone-wise. Huh.

Where did my lovely, lovely, intoxicating scent go?

I think I'm going to wait a couple of weeks and try it again.#

The Perfumed Court says: A woody chypre with notes of Indonesian patchouli, floral notes, galbanum, patchouli, cacao$ accord, mahogany, ebony, cardamom, and ciste†† labdanum. Borneo 1834 is an eau de parfum, edp. This is a European exclusive and is not available in the United States.‡‡

Hans says: It smells like cornbread. With honey.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Luck 8/8/08.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Lower Downtown -- the hip part of town.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I'm betting it was a guy.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): "We'd had a couple of drinks by then," he says. Which may explain why his girfriend was so enthusiastic about seeing naked women.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not chocolate, mind you -- cocoa.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): 'Cause, you know, if you do the same thing two or three times, maybe you'll get the result you want eventually. Remind me to tell you a story about a goose.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I found nothing on ciste labdanum. Near as I can tell, "ciste" is Gaellic for "chest." And that doesn't make much sense, does it?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I left that in there. That way you'll fully understand why I'm fighting so hard for this to work. Y'know... exclusivity, limited edition, not available anywhere... the stuff that makes Marin dork.

Gimme Ten

Ten reasons† I love the Olympics:

1. Male swimmers‡
2. Bob Costas§
3. The world record line
4. Architecture¶
5. Technology¶
6. Fireworks
7. The torch#
8. The Olympic Anthem††
9. The American Anthem‡‡
10. Hours of socially acceptable, internationally-supported knitting time§§

*************
Lovely - Sarah Jessica Parker

Marin says: It was pleasant but nondescript right out of the bottle. By the time I'd furrowed my brow and sorted out a couple of impressions, it had changed drastically. From what I remember, the first blush was a sort of green, soapy clean with a light flower to it -- like a soft lily. A woody, kinda smoky scent came up from underneath that pretty quickly.

Sorry to sound like a broken record, but when I smell something very light with a touch of discernable wood and random flowers, it always reminds me of toilet paper. I reiterate: this isn't a bad smell. Toilet paper is pretty gentle and pleasant. But I prefer to smell sexy or mysterious or exotic or... hell, even fruity.

This was basically half of The Perfect Scent. Everything I read on perfume blogs¶¶ indicates this is a much-lauded fragrance.% After all the hoopla, I thought it would be more remarkable.

SJP says: Blossom with exotic patchouli, the perfume of paper whites and creamy orchid. Seduce with sensuous cedar, white amber, sultry musk and woods linger. Sparkle with fresh mandarin, bergamot and radiant rosewood rushing into lush lavender and crisp apple martini.

The Perfumed Court says: ...has notes of mandarin, bergamot, rosewood, lavender, apple martini, patchouli, paper whites, orchid, cedar, white amber, musk and woods.

Hans says: It smells like... water.

Did I mention that it doesn't last long at all? Poor Hans got it an hour-and-a-half in and it really does smell like water.



†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not exhaustive. Not necessarily in that order.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Duh.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Remember when Ben wanted to name my breasts Keith and Dan? I suggested Bob Costas to complete the holy trinity.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): There's always cool new stuff that comes with the Olympics. It's like the space program used to be, with Tang and space blankets and those astronaut food sticks.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Always cool, but nothing will ever match the flaming arrow torch lighting.




††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I sing along. Sometimes I make up words.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I tear up.

§§FOOTNOTE (shifty): Note how cleverly I steered this into knitblog range. Speaking of knitting, the back on the Vampirates sweater is done and I'm two inches from finishing the first sleeve. Can I get a world record line?

¶¶FOOTNOTE (how will I hold my little head up?): Used to be every obsession had its magazine. Now every obsession has its bloggers.

% FOOTNOTE (percented): And further adding to my suspicion that I'm not particularly sophisticated when it comes to perfumes.

Secret Pal 12 Question 10

Which Olympic event would best describe your knitting/knitting style?

Well, I've already likened my Ravelympics events to swimming events. Let's explore the analogy:

While a swimmer (knitter) may have several different strokes (types of projects) in which they're proficient, it's still just swimming -- on your back or on your front (knit, purl). Sometimes you sprint (knit a pair of baby booties), sometimes you you're in it for the 800m haul (knit an elaborate lace shawl). Sometimes you even do all your strokes at once in the IM (lace AND cables in a sweater).

And you may be able to wow the world with new fastsuit technology (Addi Turbo needles) or develop a kick-ass flip turn (knitting backwards), but when it comes right down to it, it's all just basically kick and stroke (knit and purl).

[SUMMARY: And by you, I mean "Michael Phelps."]

Says the girl with 14 projects on the needles at any given time.

One thing I do want to know: where's my world record line?†

[SUMMARY: Oh, the delusions you'll have...]

*************
Cockaigne‡ - Black Pheonix Alchemy Lab§

Marin says: It smells like heavy, sweet, creamy coffee right off the bat and mellows quickly into something a little spicy -- like nutmeg. Or mace. And it lasted a long time, as oils do. It reminds me of Miskatonic University, but not quite as buttery and lush and smelling of books.¶

BPAL says: The weather is always mild, the wine flows freely, sex is readily available,# and all people enjoy eternal youth. The Land of Plenty, also called Luilekkerland – the Lazy, Luscious Land: milk$ and honey, sweet cakes†† and wine.

Hans says: "It smells spicy. Like cinnamon and nutmeg mixed together."

Later, I told Hans the BPAL accounting of it mentioned milk and honey cakes‡‡ and we decided honey cakes would be a lot like sopaipillas and we could see how that might involve cinnamon and nutmeg. I will admit I did get the honey once I read that and the perfume had rounded down off the coffee a little.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't you love the world record line?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Yeah, I got excited too. Then it became an educational experience.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): BPAL always sends an extra or two. I fantasise they look at my past purchases and say, "Hey, here's a girl who really needs some Cockaigne in her life."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I love my wrists, but I'm not *in love* with my wrists.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm calling my travel agent.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Is that anything like honey cakes?

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I was going from memory. Tells you something about my memory.

Well, Spork Me

You should have seen me, picking this up off the floor of the elevator, carrying it to the kitchen to wash it off... oh, the lengths I go.

After all my fuss in the Great Utensil Debate of 2008, I feel a little sheepish to find sporks are actually the bullies of the kitchen drawer. I don't think I want to be a spork anymore.

Though it might be nice to be on top† for a change.

*************
Kelly Calèche - Hermès

Marin says: I am so sad. This is a Jean-Claude Ellena scent. My first JCE was such a revelation, such a pinnacle... I guess I'd hoped it would always be that way.

Turns out it *does* happen to every guy one time or another.

I found this very bitter and green - like one of those sappy grasses or the rind of a lime.

It started very strong, astringent, almost acrid, and only rounded out slightly. Hours of bitter green smell. In the evening, it finally softened into a sweeter, more floral smell, but still green and a little edgy. I'm disappointed how little change there was.

Hermes says: The unexpected caress of leather among flowers. Mimosa, iris, tuberose, and climbing rose. A floral perfume touched by leather.‡

Hans says: It smells like flowers. [long pause] I'm reverting. With a brain that's not working at all... be sure you tell your blog I'm having a rough day... wait, it smells like that spray stuff [international Hans hand signal for spraying stuff] ...not perfume, of course... like, body spray? Yeah, light and flowery like body spray.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yeah, that way too. We're all twelve, but apparently we're twelve-year-old cowgirls.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Leather? That was LEATHER?

Play that Funky Anthem, White Boy

Before we talk about all the things I'll be finishing, let's talk about something I'll be starting:




Out of this:




Which wasn't supposed to come in until the beginning of September, but my pusher, Sylvia, lured me to the House of Fuzzy Crack Friday to pick it up.†

This yarn is 30% rock.‡

When Sylia got the sample cards for this, it didn't matter how much yarn I already have. It didn't matter how many projects are already on my needles. I started thinking of knitting something out of rocks.

My geology-lovin' little heart grew three sizes that day.

And I liked the pattern when I saw it in the new Interweave Knits and was considering what to knit it of when the Yarn of Rocks came in.

So happens the pattern's even written for that EXACT GAUGE.

[SUMMARY: Fate.]

And before we get into things I'll be finishing, let's take a quick look at a couple of things I'm in the middle of. Like this:






That's the Malabrigo Lace Secret Pal sent for my birthday, and I finally found a project for it, the somewhat inelegantly-named "Scarf with French trellis border from Weldon's 1890 and bramble leaf center."

I'm calling it Purple Prose.^

Then there are Dad's Low Tide Socks, which now have heels§ and a little bit of leg.¶




I used a new heel method# that I really like: Short row, with no wrapping and turning and picking up wraps. Look how pretty it is:




But I'm not working on those projects for a little bit while I complete my Ravelympics events.††

Oh, look how much a knitblog this really is!

[SUMMARY: Just showing off.]

I completed one event in WIP Wrestling‡‡ mostly on Saturday,§§ and did fuck-all on my other WIP Wrestling event.¶¶

I wove in the ends on the Malabrigo slippers that are -- technically -- a Mother's Day present for my grandmother, and washed them and stuffed them with washcloths to block them into some form that didn't look like crumpled paper.

I then sat down to knit the acorn embellishment. I determined that said embellishment mostly resembled an oddly-coloured, hand-knit sperm, so I decided to leave the embellishment off.




Sunday morning, when they were dry, I took them out to get artsy photos of them for the blog and Ravelry.

I believe I succeeded in stirring up bees more than I succeeded as an artist, but I think I should get an A for effort.##

[SUMMARY: I did little, yet accomplished so much.]

I had already determined my final event in the Ravelympics would be the Sweater Sprint, because I wanted to knit a skull sweater for Tallest, Hairiest Nephew's birthday.

I found a skull chart on Flickr (the skull designer is on Ravelry under the same name)...

...and then I went to Barnes & Noble at lunch and found a series of kids' books called "Vampirates."

So THN is getting the books too and I'm modifying the skull to have fangs.%

I'm giving myself a little pat on the back††† for remembering how fun and quick the colourwork was on the Monkey Pack and how dreary the miles of solid stockinette was.

I started the back of Vampirates and am saving the skull part for last, just to treat myself.

[SUMMARY: Old dog, new tricks.]

I fully embrace my dorkness in getting excited over something called Ravelympics.

Mostly, I embrace the fact that the threat of public humiliation in the face of failure of the stated objective is a powerful motivator for me. So I'm confident I'll finally finish the Lizard Ridge and have THN's birthday present done on time.

Know thyself.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): OK, I was going there anyway and she hadn't actually managed to get the email out to me before I showed up on her doorstep, thumping a vein and jonesing for yarn, but I'm going with "lured" anyway.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): See the label?

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Note the lifeline. I am smarter than I look. After three frog sessions, I'm smarter than I look.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): No longer dick warmers!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Technically, the It Happened One Night phase.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): New to me.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Being a competitor is really hard. You have to devote yourself to the competition. You can't be distracted by rock yarn.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Grandma's Blues, the 100m freestyle of my WIP events.

§§FOOTNOTE (flip turn): Lizard Ridge, the 800m IM of my WIP events.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two little Ravletes on the podium): I'm disciplined, not insane.

##FOOTNOTE (pounding to the finish line): Kinda like the Special Ravelympics.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I have it on good authority that I'm not just playing to my own inner eight-year-old boy. THN will be thrilled. Brother and eBeth both say so.

†††FOOTNOTE (gold, silver, bronze): Another one.

It's Like This, Cat:

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."

Yes or No

I got this from my darling cousin Jacquelyn's blog, under the blogtitle "Simplemente Sí, o No."

I want to footnote the beejebus out of it.

I want to tell you stories.† I want to explain. I want to qualify.

In some cases, I want to defend myself.

But I feel the spirit of the thing is to leave some mystery. Yes or No. No stories.

[SUMMARY: I'm showing a lot of restraint and I intend to get credit for it.]

Taken a picture naked? Yes
Made money illegally? No
Had a one night stand? No
Been in a fist fight? Yes
Slept with your best friend? Yes
Had sex in a public place? No
Ditched work to have sex? No
Slept with a member of the same sex? Yes
Seen someone die? Yes
Ran from the police? No
Woke up somewhere and not remember how you got there? No
Worn your partner's unmentionables? No
Fallen asleep at work? Yes
Used toys in the bedroom? Yes
Ran a red light? Yes
Been fired? Yes
Been in a car accident? Yes
Pole danced or done a striptease? Yes
Loved someone you shouldn't? Yes
Sang karaoke? Yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes
Laughed so hard you peed your pants? No
Caught someone having sex? No
Kissed a perfect stranger? Yes
Shaved your partner? No
Given your private parts a nickname? Yes
Ever gone in public without underwear? Yes
Had sex on a roof top? No
Played chicken? No
Mooned/flashed someone? Yes
Do you sleep naked? Yes
Blacked out from drinking? No
Felt like killing someone? No
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? Yes
Been with someone because they were in a band? No
Taken 10 shots of liquor in a day? Yes
Shot a gun? No
Gone outside naked? Yes

*************
Parfum Sacre (edp) - Caron

Marin says: Honestly? The first impression was "Robitussin." Very heavy alcohol and deep, black almost cherry scent. After a few seconds, it smells mostly like amber and vanilla, but with a backdrop of black licorice or cocoa.‡

And Aqua Net.

It's highly evocative of Aqua Net, not just for the kinda sweet, kinda alcohol smell of it, but because I can almost taste it, just like when there's hairspray in the air.

Oh, It's definitely too sweet for my taste. In fact, I think it just went sugar cookie about two minutes ago (that's about 45 minutes into the roll-out, for those of you scoring at home.)

Epilogue: I tried like hell to wash this stuff off. Several times. If you liked this scent, it would be an excellent investment, since even soap and water can't erase it.

The Perfumed Court says: The notes are vanilla,$ myrrh, civet, cedarwood, lemon, pepper, mace,$ cardamom, orange blossom, rose, jasmine, and rosewood. This is a comfort scent. While not as rich as the extrait, it is a lovely woody, warm perfume.

Hans says: Smells like Bed, Bath & Beyond. Or the Body Shop. It's seriously soapy.§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Of course, I've already told so many of these stories, I feel I pre-cheated the rules. I can't lie, it's a good feeling.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Before you laugh, light black licorice isn't too far off light strains of cocoa to my nose. Sure, if they were strong enough to be easily identifiable, I might not think they smelled so much alike. There's something astringent and sweet (but not sugary) about them both.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And may I say, "Holy shit!" When I was reading about mace on Wikipedia, thinking it may be that alcohol/astringent thing I'm getting, I scroll down to the "essential oils" section of the entry to find it's *used in cough syrup*. Damn, I'm good. Well, mostly kinda smart-ass, but if your ass is as smart as mine, it doesn't really matter if your head and your nose can get together on this stuff.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There's that boys and soap thing again. Man, I got no soap at all with this one. Maybe the astringent thing reads "soap" to Hans...

I Ran Out of Footnote Symbols

We all knew it would happen someday.

At least we get to start fresh with a whole new post and a whole new set of symbols.†

I do have a perfume review today. I have a perfume review every day for the forseeable future, because I have a perfume problem that has manifested itself as about seventy tiny little vials of perfumes‡ sitting in a heart-shaped dish§ on my dresser.

And did I mention my obsessive nature?¶

[SUMMARY: OCD, light on the C.]

But first, for Anna-Liza, whose bat comment seemed to have enormous subtext and reminded me of this:




Need I point out there are two definitions of "depends" here that could make for a really funny joke if one was so inclined?

[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny in a really subtle way.]

*************
Au Thè Blanc# - Bvlgari†† (edp)‡‡

Marin says: The initial whiff was very aldehyde (read: borerline Chanel No. 5), but it quickly calmed to very nearly nothing. Like, in five minutes. I kept snorking on my coffee§§ to clear my nose's palate¶¶ and try to catch something.

After a half-hour, it kinda blossomed, but the roll-out smells like the last legs of a strong aldehyde -- perfumey and chemical-sweet musk rather than any identifiable notes.

These tend to finish powdery, which is not my favourite thing, though never truly unpleasant.

The Perfumed Court says: A gorgeous floral-woody-musk fragrance with notes of artemisia leaves, ambrette, white pepper, musk$ and woody amber.

Hans says: You smell like my mom.
*************

Some of you may be wondering, "How does Marin have hours and hours to devote to her blog every day. Doesn't she work? Doesn't she work in the oil business? Isn't she busy finding oil to lower my gas prices?## Hey! Where are my lower gas prices?"

A legitimate line of questioning. Allow me to explain.

I am working on yet another divestiture. To make a long story short, I must wait for the Billings††† office to provide me with the properties they wish to divest before I can adequately research the information I am to provide.

They are dragging their feet.‡‡‡

The deadline is looming.§§§

My blood pressure is so high my eyes are about to pop out of my head and run screaming around my desk.###

Thus, I blog.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And, y'know... breaking up the vast verbiage to save you the eye-strain. I'm thoughtful that way.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): *ahem* Not to mention the eight or so full-size bottles I kept around before this obsession really took wing. Oh... and the back-up bottle of Sake (I'm pretty sure nothing smells sexier on me than Sake) I keep in the closet because I'm terrified they'll discontinue it soon since it was came out the same time the Memoirs of a Geisha movie and may be a sort of tie-in, thus limited of shelf life.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It's purple. Don't judge.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yeah, I'm a joy as a girlfriend too.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which I originally had on my spreadsheet (yes, I have a perfume spreadsheet) as Au de Blanc. Then I realised it was Au the Blanc, which I thought was odd, mixing English and French that way. Then I found out it was Au Thè Blanc, "white tea."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Bvlgari does not acknowledge its fragrance department. They only cop to leather and accessories, so they don't get a say in their perfume review.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Unless I note it's an edp, or unless it's BPAL (which I believe are all essential oil mixtures), it's an edt. In case it matters to you.

§§FOOTNOTE (waft): That's what they make you do in the candle store to clear your nose palate. It works better with beans than with brewed coffee.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (nose holes): Surely there's a special word for that.

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

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like a head on a desk): Days like today, I feel I've driven the price of gas up by two cents a gallon just by being largely unproductive and getting paid for it.

†††FOOTNOTE (triple crossed like a heist movie): As in "Montana," not as in "invoices."

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (train tracks to hell): read: Interacting like the three stooges on amphetamines but providing no useful assistance.

§§§FOOTNOTE (seriously, people, I'm getting dizzy): Two weeks. It was going to be almost impossible to do in three weeks. Now we have two weeks. OK, let's all take a deep breath (yes, you too -- I need all the deep breathing I can get now). It has been pointed out -- by me, by my supervisor, by my supervisor's supervisor -- that if they make it impossible, it *is* impossible and that's not my fault and Billings will just have to live with a later sale... but they're still going to get the info to us and I'm still going to try like hell to get it all done by the noted deadline. Did I mention Hans is in North Carolina for the rest of the week and the computers are going to be down for five days just before the deadline? I need an aspirin...

###FOOTNOTE: No real footnote... that's just the pounding of my head. Is it getting louder?

Secret Pal 12 Question 9

In many communities, "the fair"† is a great place to visit and spend time with your family. It's also where many have entered one product or another (jams, cakes, even knitting)...

Have you ever entered your knitting (or anything else) in the fair?Would you ever consider it?

The first question is easy: no. I've never even been to a fair -- not the kind that has pie-baking contests and knitting displays, in any case.

The second question begs a little explanation and a tiny story.^

See, there's no Denver County Fair.@ There is a Colorado State Fair, but it's all the way the hell in Pueblo‡ and I've never found a compelling reason to go to it. My extremely limited understanding of the Colorado State Fair revolves around two things:

1. It's all about livestock and D-list musical acts% and, while I like looking at livestock, I don't want to drive 120 miles to Pueblo to do it, and
2. I once kuyped the cow from Colorado State Fair advertising to make Brother a fantasy baseball logo.§

Honestly? I read Stacey's account of entering her Lizard Ridge¶ in the North Carolina State Fair last year and my interest was piqued.

North Carolina has its Fair in a very reasonable October.+ Colorado's is in August.# So when I checked into it in October, prompted by Stacey's adventure, there was very little information. It was all gone until next year. Um... this year.

This question wound me up again, so I did a little research†† and found... there's still very little information.‡‡

So I emailed Debbie at the Colorado State Fair. If I find anything interesting,§§ I'll pass it on. As it stands, I'm sure it's too late to do anything for this year, as the Fair starts August 22.¶¶

Shame. It woulda gotten me out of the city for the DNC.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): [sic] The superfluous quotes are making my teeth itch. I don't want you to think I chose them.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): You can check. I'll wait here.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): There's *always* a story, isn't there?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): 120 miles. And I'd have to get past the temptation of all those fossils and scenic byways, knowing it was hot, dusty, small-town Pueblo at the end of the trip.




%FOOTNOTE (percented): I freely admit this may be completely off-base. Though a quick glance at the concert package for this year's Fair tells us I may be closer than my ignorance should allow.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): All his fantasy teams are Cult of the World, COW for short. The Cult of the World cheer is, of course, "Moo." Also? This year's logo? No cow. Thus:




In case you were wondering, my fantasy team is the Beasts of Burden, or BOB for short. The BOB mascot is Donkey. The BOB cheer is the Outkast song, "B.O.B." BOB likes long walks on the beach, boys with a sense of humour, vodka and kittens. You're welcome.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Did I mention I'm going to finish my flippin' Lizard Ridge this month? I've entered the WIP Wrestling event in the Ravelympics. Yes, I am that dork. Of course, if it's anything like Greco-Roman wrestling, I get to grapple with sweaty menz. Dontcha wish your dorkness was hot like mine?

+FOOTNOTE (plussed): Just sayin'.




#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Just sayin' again.




††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): We're all about accuracy here at the Rickety Blog.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Question: In this day and age, why wouldn't you post everything you have on your website? Why have information available only by booklet and only by emailing someone? OK, end rant.

§§FOOTNOTE (tilt-a-whirl!): Like it's all knitting or there's no knitting and we need to stage a protest.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (are those alpacas at the Fair?): And even if I got a wild yarn up my ass, y'know... Ravelympics.

Monkey Business

I am not likely to ever get political here. I have my politics. You probably wouldn't like them.† I don't care enough about either your politics or mine to make politics a rift between us.

So this isn't political, so much as news stuff.‡ I just want y'all to keep that in mind. Don't assume that my using "shit" and "Democrat" in the same blogbit has anything to do with anything.

As some of you may be aware, the Democratic National Convention will be in Denver shortly.

[SUMMARY: Urgh.]

Civic Center Park will be an even scarier place than it already is.

Our office building will be locked, accessible only via key card all day, every day. Many companies have installed serious security systems in preparation for the onslaught of wound up, emotionally- and politically-charged people.%

Local businesses near the Convention ground zero have been notified they may be shut down, locked down or otherwise screwed with if security becomes an issue.

Denver Water puttered through downtown a couple of weeks ago and put locking caps on the fire hydrants.§

And the City Council passed an ordinance yesterday calling bodily fluids illegal.

OK, it's both broader¶ and more specific# than that, but it's funnier and more shocking the way I say it.

[SUMMARY: I think I'm funny. And sometimes shocking.]

So the radical fringe is officially banned from maintaining feces bombs in Denver.^

While this is oh-so-comforting, I'm torn between renting my house out for $1200 a night during this ordeal to get *something* out of it, and just battening down the hatches and skipping town.

*************
Hermès - Un Jardin sur le Nil (Hermèssence)

Marin says: Started with a bitter green scent, like when you break some thick grasses and they have sap rather than just juice... reminiscent of the smell of multi-vitamins. It was so light that even though I didn't particularly like it, I was OK with it.

Then the roll-out started.

Oh, my gosh, this is a gorgeous perfume.

It's lightly floral†† (water lily? lotus?) tempered by a dry wood,‡‡ but the greenish scent lingered behind that. For a half-hour or so, it was like lemon verbena, with a hint of bitter and wood. Then it turned woody-grassy, but the floral lingered behind that. I've honestly never experienced a real "roll out" like that before in a perfume. I'm astonished and delighted.§§

Hermes says: A perfume of light and life, generous and sparkling. A bottle reflecting the shimmering green and ochre tints of the banks of the Nile River appreciated by women and men alike.

The Perfumed Court says: A fruity floral scent with notes of green mango,¶¶ lotus flower,$ aromatic rushes,$ incense## and Sycamore wood.$

Hans says: It smells like lemon!


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't paint us all with the same brush. It's funny to me that so many so-called liberals are so narrow-minded when it comes to Republicans, while Republicans -- long thought to be the narrow-minded ones -- are well aware that there are degrees and flavours of Democrats. Though one of the funniest politicist (is that the political version of racist?) remarks ever came from The Boy, back when we were actually dating instead of just fucking through the drunken nights of everybody else's celebrations*:

"So the president gave a speech last night."

"So I hear."

"You didn't watch?"

"Nope. I try to avoid Bush where I can."

"Huh. I thought you'd invite your Republican friends over and pop popcorn or something."

*FOOTNOTE WITHIN A FOOTNOTE (asterisked, as always): Wasn't that evocative? How come I can evoke about sweaty, ill-advised, illicit sex but I can't communicate what the hell water frickin' lily smells like to me?

Reminds me of the trophy for getting the lowest possible score in the bowling tournament (I threw a 67. Over two games. I'm a *terrible* bowler), which was inscribed, "Stick with what you know."

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Y'all know how I love to keep you informed.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): 'Specially oil companies, with their double-whammy of highly sensitive, proprietary information and their current target-worthy social position as Evil Overlords.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Five years of drought and never locking down the hydrants until the wingnuts come to town.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): In that it also encompasses cement, barricades, Super-Soakers filled with Kool-Aid and anything that can be used as an assault mechanism or barrier.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): You may think that goes without saying, but there was a news story a couple of weeks ago wherein police were tipped off to a home in Denver that was the site for the stockpiling of human waste for use at the Convention.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): In that it specifies possession with the intent to harm or hinder. Funny note: Denver police have to prove whatever material was intended for sinister use in order to enforce the ordinance. If you have a bucket of human waste in a political crowd, what other use would there be?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Water lily? Lotus? Sheesh, I wish I knew what those actually smelled like rather than just guessing at what I think of as water lily or lotus.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Y'know -- not sweet, heavy or wet like some woods... more like the woodpile out back than the depths of the rainforest. And not as distinctive as cedar.

§§FOOTNOTE (round and round and round she goes): For the record, this is one of the two perfumes that is the subject of the book I got from eBeth for my birthday (The Perfect Scent, by Chandler Burr.)

¶¶FOOTNOTE (stoppers!): They talked about this a LOT in the book. It may be that bitter smell I got to begin with. Then again, it could be the lemony smell. I don't know what a grove of green mangoes smells like. Is there an "E" in mangos?

$FOOTNOTE (on the money): Ha! Got one! And, yes, I'm counting aromatic rushes as sappy grass, taking full credit for blundering into lotus and surely sycamore is a perfectly adequate dry wood... even though I have no idea what a sycamore smells like. Or even looks like. I don't think we have sycamores in Colorado.

##FOOTNOTE (pounding like a perfume headache): Huh. *Never* got that. And I thought I was all sensitive to incense.

NOTE: In case you didn't get it, I'm really not against the Democrats as a group.

I'm against large, life-changing groups of people overrunning my world and I'm whole-heartedly against wing-nut protestors and feces-flingers, who will be out en masse at the convention. Normal, everyday Democrats are OK by me.

Some of my best friends are normal, everyday Democrats.

Please don't go all politco-guerrilla on me.

And I don't have to explain the title, right? Y'all get the clever reference?

kthx

You Are Not Spam

It's the headline over at the blogger.com dashboard.† It made me laugh.

Then it reminded me of this philosophical nugget‡:

"I'm pink, therefore I'm spam."

Which reminded me of the Arapahoe County Stud Squad, a wholly unofficial social group we started in high school.§ The sign of a fellow member of the ACSS was the Spam key on his keychain.¶

[SUMMARY#: How much more dork? None. None more dork.]

Aren't you glad you boarded my train of thought today? Even if it derailed at the station?

*************
BPAL - Schrödinger's Cat (bewitching brews)

Marin says: It smelled like Campho-Phenique out of the bottle, so I'm guessing benzoin. Then it smelled really fruity -- definitely grapefruit, maybe mango and lime. It mellowed and sweetened and completely lost the fruit after a couple of hours. Now I smell like a subtle, sophisticated Junior Mint and I love it. This is the first of the parfums/oils I really like -- no head shop smell here.

Black Phoenix says: One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts. It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a "blurred model" for representing reality. In itself it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks.

A paradoxical scent experiment! - tangerine, sugared lime, pink grapefruit,$ oakmoss,†† lavender, zdravetz,‡‡ and chocolate peppermint.$

No cats were mistreated during the formulation of this paradox, or in the process of creating this perfume.

Hans says: "Oh, I like that one. Again."

(waggling fingers in the well-known Hans sign language that means, "Put that wrist up again. I need another sniff.")

"Mmmmm. One more time."

(*waggle*)

"It smells like... laundry. Like... whatsit? Fabric softener."§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Apparently, some people's blogs got marked as spam and they got locked out and maybe reprimanded.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Circa 1985.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): We did this a lot. The Lobotomy Club and the Overland High School Under the Table Tone-Deaf Choir and Kazoo Corps were adjunct to the ACSS. I tell you this so you know just how much dork you're dealing with.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The Spam key was both a sign -- not unlike the Masons' secret handshakes -- and an initiation. The only way to gain membership in the ACSS was to steal a Spam key off a Spam can in the grocery store. I regret our effect on the poor people who got their Spam home only to find themselves keyless. We were young, restless dorks.

I happen to know some of us... um, them... still have Spam keys on their keychains.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I initially typed "DUMMARY," which may be more appropriate.

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

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which apparently accounts for the original smell. Once I read that oakmoss smells like turpentine, my original thought of Campho-Phenique made sense. I rearranged the scents in my head and I believe Peppermint + Turpentine = something a lot like Campho-Phenique.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Which I had to look up. And the first thing Google came up with was the MSDS on zdravetz. Scary. But a cool word. Any word with a Z in it has an automatic cool factor.

§§FOOTNOTE (haz mat fumes - getting dizzy): Which is a fairly typical male response to a lot of perfumes. Interestingly enough (and this is the educational portion of today's show), around 1940, manufacturers started putting a particular compound (probably an aldehyde) in laundry detergent that has caused a whole generation to think of the smell of laundry soap as "clean." When the trend in perfumes went to clean (the 90's), many of the "lesser" perfumiers (read: those the French look down on) used the same compound to hearken people to the idea of clean they're programmed to believe. So when guys say it smells like soap or it smells like laundry, I imagine they're very tuned to the scent of laundry detergent as the pleasant scent.

Brother will be so happy to hear it. He thinks most perfumes smell like soap.

A Little AntiM Wisdom

Gather 'round children.

*WAIT!*

Not too close... it's a hundred and two frickin' degrees outside† and I don't need the body heat right now.‡

Which brings me to the topic of today's sage advice§:

Heat sucks. Cold is dandy.

Before you try to disagree, mull this:

If it gets cold, you can put on a sweater, a jacket, wooly socks, down comforter, multiple dogs, Brazilian houseboy.¶

If it gets hot, you can only get so naked.#


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's me, just to the left of the red. But it's only 7% humidity, so it's a *dry* heat. And windy. So it's like living in a convection oven.




p.s. -- don't let them fool you with that pussy orange 90-something colour; it's over a hundred here.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not from a bunch of knee-biting rug rats, in any case.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I am Queen of Segueways!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not necessarily in that order.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Trust me, I've tried.

I Feel Like Such a Boob

Your Boobies' Names Are...

Yin and Yang

Boobie Name Generator

Can I just say I think "Hugin and Munin"† would be better names for my boobs?

I know it seems I'm obsessed with my boobs. I feel our time together is fleeting and I should enjoy them while I can.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Good heavens, I may have just found my next tattoo.

Bad, Bad Influence

I have been accused by more than one person *coughSylviacoughRosie* of leading them down the primrose path† to perfume-driven bankruptcy.‡

Hell, if I'm gonna do the time, I'm gonna do the crime.§

The Perfumed Court, my all-time favourite source for scents, is having an anniversary sale.

Today until midnight, 20% off your entire order.¶

Tomorrow through August 11, 10% off your entire order.#

Go forth and scentify.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Or the tuberose path. Or the patchouli path. Or the citrus path. It's your path, you perfume it however you want.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): At least of eating into the shoes-and-yarn budget.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): If scenting the world be a crime, let me be guilty!

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): code: TPCAnniversary

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Midnight to midnight. Code: tpconeyear

The Zen of Fried Things

TTHFCIF

I was listening to XM Comedy on the way in this morning, and Jake Johannsen was riffing on toilets in China that are, for all purposes, porcelain holes. He speculated that there is a factory in China that makes... holes.

It took me back suddenly† to the first time I heard of doughnut holes. I was nine, Brother was four. Mom had driven to Tomball during the school day% to pick up a paycheck‡ and she was telling me that Brother had sat at the counter of the Woolworth's§ and eaten a dozen doughnut holes.

I laughed and laughed. First I thought it was some kind of expression, like, "tilting at windmills."

"Oh, that kid. He could sit and eat doughnut holes by the dozen."

Then I thought she was pulling my leg.¶ Hey, I'd heard the Burl Ives song. A doughnut hole is nothing. It's the place where the doughnut isn't. It's air. It's a zen koan of a lack of doughnut.

[SUMMARY: I was young, I was naive in the ways of doughnut holes.]

But the point is not doughnuts.# The point is nature vs. nurture.††

Dork is like gay: you're born that way. Nobody can make you a dork, nobody can make you *not* a dork. You are or you aren't.&

[SUMMARY: How zen.]

The doughnut or the hole.‡‡

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BPAL - Seraphim (sin & salvation)

Marin says: For an oil, this isn't bad at all. It's strange how much I like the very banal, very classic^ rose and sandalwood in the middle of this scent. It starts -- like most of them do -- with a very heavy incense smell.@ After a half-hour or so, it's very rosy, tempered by a good dose of sandalwood. I think I'd like it better if it was a bit more rose and a bit less sandalwood, but I kinda dig it. After a couple of hours, it fades to an old-lady aura. Not a bad smell, just not sexy or compelling.

ETA: But... OK, so with the oils, I dab a bit on my inner elbows and I put a healthy drop on my wrists.§§ Then I drip a little down my cleavage. Right this second,¶¶ the waft from my cleavage is intoxicating. To me, at least. I think the scent that doesn't get bruised on the wrist wrests## doesn't get so powdery.

I am so in love with myself right now.

Black Pheonix says: A perfume sacred to the highest of the angelic hosts: calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood,$ Damascus rose$ and frankincense.

Hans says: That smells like baby powder.* You writing this down? Baby powder.
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†FOOTNOTE (crossed): With a ripple of the horizon and Wayne's World beedledeedledee noises.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Just to explain why I wasn't there myself.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): She stopped working when I was two, but was never one of those happy SAHM types. Dad wanted to provide, she wanted to nurse. She won.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Remember when Woolworth's had lunch counters? Remember Woolworth's? God, we're old.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Our family is known for its teasing, taunting ways. I come by it honestly.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It rarely is.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Seriously.

&FOOTNOTE (ampersanded): I am Dork Yoda.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm not committing to which part of dork/not dork is the doughnut and which is the hole.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Not always the same thing, but in this case, classic seems banal.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Is that frankincense?

§§FOOTNOTE (swirling from betwixt my boobs): When I use an EDT, I generally spray it all those places, then on the back of my neck, right near my hairline. Mostly because it's a very sensitive place for me and if anyone is going to nuzzle me, I want them to nuzzle me there.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (two little decants, all in a row): One o'clock in the afternoon... about six hours after application.

##FOOTNOTE (pounded like the M on my keyboard): Kim! The glow-in-the-dark pig with 42 hearts smells like a French whorehouse! In a good way!

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

*FOOTNOTE (asterisked): Hans usually doesn't get to the scents until they've been fading for a few hours. He skipped the rose and went straight to the old lady.