The Key to My Heart.. My Car...

...and one useless post box.†

TTHFCIF

Surely‡ you didn't think I was kidding when I said I was going to talk about my keys today.

These are them§:




Over on the left are the electronic swipey keys to the office, along with the key that opens the stairwell doors if I decide to take the stairs instead of the elevator.¶

Then there's the carabiner that holds it all together.

That brass key on the right is the post box key.

Of course, there's the magical key that affords me access to the Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World.#




And Vlad.†† Vlad is a Kamibashi string doll that protects me from harm when I'm out past my bedtime.‡‡ And the real reason behind this blogpost.%




[SUMMARY: Blame it on the vampire.]

A month or so ago, I was making small talk with The Peach after my weekly dinner with Dad, and she noticed Vlad and asked about him.§§

I explained his function, and that Brother gave him to me a couple of years ago in my Christmas stocking. I also mentioned that I was kinda hoping that he'd protect me from work, as represented by the electronic swipey keys.

"Just a minute," said The Peach, disappearing up the stairs.

She came back in a moment with a small box containing what looked like stitch markers.¶¶

"Pick one. They're evil eyes I got in Turkey. They're for warding off evil. I think it would go very nicely on your keychain."




[SUMMARY: If one superstition is good, two superstitions is twice as nice.]

So I did. And I'm waiting for the day the evil eye goes after the vampire, who goes after the swipey keys and the whole thing combusts in my purse in a cloud of string and plastic.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Let us not speak of it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And don't call me Shirley.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Grammatically untenable, I know, but I like the way it sounds.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): But does not allow me access to the office, as tested earlier this week.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Vlad didn't used to look like a homeless vampire dancing a grapevine, perhaps to someplace where he could wash the grime off his face.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Vlad does NOT sparkle.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I've wanted to tell the story of how my keychains will explode my purse some day ever since this incident. Once again, I am *that* dork.

§§FOOTNOTE (the talk turned odd): Vlad is actually quite a conversation piece. I'm starting to wonder if he's become remarkably odd looking and I just don't see it because I'm used to his decrepitude.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (those could be stitch markers, if you squint): All roads lead to knitting. Some take the scenic route.

Speaking of...

...knowing way more about Marin than you need to know.†

I was bragging on Facebook Tuesday about how I remembered my purse that day.‡ This stemmed from the fact that I left my purse at home on Monday and had to go home and get it before I could drive back in the opposite direction for dinner with Dad.

This is not as rare an occurrence as I'd like. I'm a creature of habit. If the purse isn't in the car,§ there's a good chance I won't notice it's not with me until I get where I'm going and I have no money, no credit, no gum and no way to call anybody and bemoan the fact.

[SUMMARY: I am that dork.]

Nathan, my new best friend,¶ expressed a curiosity about said purse. Bless the boy, he didn't ask, "How could you possibly leave your purse at home, you scary-dumb bunny?"

To be exact, he said, "I'm suddenly curious as to the exact purse that a Marin in the wild would carry . . . *shhhh, you'll startle it and it will spill its coffee*"

[SUMMARY: Nathan is *funny.*]

I promised Nathan I would post pictures of my purse.

In the wild#:




Artsy, moody, depth of field -- and red stitching!




The classic frame.††




Inside, my skull wallet with the brown satin skull lining.‡‡






And the standard assortment of receipts,§§ discount card for The Recycled Lamb, gum, DumDums from the bank,¶¶ loose change, Fox News and Cheyenne Frontier Days lapel pins,## lotion samples and cell phone.




The small front pocket is reserved for perfume samples, mints from Randolph's and buttons.†††

[SUMMARY: This is where the magic happens.]




I do have other purses. Several. Many.‡‡‡ But this is the one I carry most and this is the one I left behind, which prompted the Facebook note which prompted the curiosity which prompted the promise which prompted the pictures which prompted the blogpost which prompted this children's song of an explanation.

[SUMMARY: The whole last paragraph was a summary.]

Tomorrow: my keys.§§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I was speaking of that, in any case.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): As Jeffe said, astutely, "Baby steps."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I can't tell if an attached garage is the best thing that ever happened to me or the worst thing that ever happened to my brain.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): It's not just because of the Rose Chypre, either. No, it's the Amber Fetiche and the Samurai and the Sweet Smoke and all the other pretty things.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): The purse, not the Marin.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Fashion-wise. I was talking about the purse, rather than the foliage frame around it.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Which is becoming battered and loose so all the cards slide out of it when I turn it upside down. Sadly, I may have to look for another wallet soon.

§§FOOTNOTE (like a Dyson vacuum): I actually removed all the receipts. They were messy and I wanted to dress the shot properly.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (talking heads): Which I always pick up two at a time with the idea that someday I'll be somewhere with my nephews and will magically produce candy from my purse and be the BEST AUNT EVER.

##FOOTNOTE (Brit Hume, pounding in your ears): From Shanny. Because Shanny cares.

†††FOOTNOTE (bobbins): Why? Where do you keep your buttons?

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (fine stitching): Funny because up until 2002, I didn't carry a purse. I just shoved stuff in my pockets. I blame the rainbow of purses in my closet on eBeth.

§§§FOOTNOTE (things are taking a turn): If you think I'm joking, you haven't been paying attention.

They're Playing Our Song

From the Christian Laboutin FW09 ad campaign:


{Christian Laboutin via Yatzer - photo © Peter Lippmann}


Laboutin with a SKULL.

Pinch me, I'm dreaming.

[SUMMARY: Yay, Laboutin!]

Then go check out the pictures at Yatzer. Gorgeous stuff.

[SUMMARY: Yay, Yatzer!]

The Promise of Spring*

When we got our seedlings from eBeth a month ago or so, I killed one of mine.% I knocked it over right there in eBeth's kitchen, burying its fragile leaves and delicate stem under a honking pile† of potting soil, compost and perlite.

I took it home and propped it up on a bamboo skewer,‡ but the next morning it wasn't even a green smear in the earth. So I planted a cucumber seed in its place§ and went on with my life.

[SUMMARY: To everything, turn, turn, turn...]

A couple of days later, I took my remaining six tomato plants outside to harden them.¶ Carefully following instructions,# I left them in the May sunshine for an hour then brought them in.

They were all noticably yellowed and a couple had brownish-greyish spots on them. I had burned my poor little tomatoes.†† Not fatal, as it turns out, but very sad. With all the rain we've had in Denverish lately, I couldn't take them out much, so they had a chance to recover in peace.

All but the littlest one recovered. It continued to look miserable. Alive, but miserable.

Sunday morning‡‡ I decided to take a trip to the garden center§§ for some herbs and another cucumber and I figured a good, solid beefsteak tomato would be a nice addition¶¶ to the more colourful heirlooms I already had.

I stopped to visit the plants on the way out and that tiny, spindly tomato -- a brandywine -- was more pathetic than ever. It was plastered to its bamboo stake and transluscent like wilted lettuce. I stroked it gently## and decided to get another brandywine at the garden center.

[SUMMARY: I'm both sentimental and practical.]

"After all, self," I said to myself, "if the spindly little guy makes it, you'll have that many more tomatoes to can. This can't be a bad thing."

The demon in the back of my brain was screaming, "It's going to DIE! You killed ANOTHER ONE! Are we there yet? There is NO HOPE! Can we get ice cream?"†††

Until that sickly tomato actually disappeared, I wasn't willing to give up on it. I put it out with the others Sunday for a full day of sun and fresh air. I brought it in at night and there it's stayed through a rainy Monday and Tuesday.

Today, there's a new leaf.‡‡‡ And it's standing on its own, tiny and delicate, but upright. And the leaves are growing out from the stem§§§ instead of hanging down in a most untomato-like way.

[SUMMARY: Cue the Handel! Sing out, Messiah! Hallelujah!]

As a chick who clicked her car fob at the electronic entry point on the office door *four times* before figuring out why the door wasn't unlocking,¶¶¶ I find this tale of hope and resurrection### very comforting.


*FOOTNOTE (asterisked, oddly enough): hearts and flowers... lalala...

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Well, it wasn't really mine until I wrecked it.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Honking if you're a quarter of an inch tall and have the tensile strength of bunny fur.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): All my tiny tomato plants have tiny bamboo stakes I made out of vegetable skewers. That's very nearly ironic, isn't it?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which had two leaves three days later, so I like to think its tragic end wasn't for naught.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): It's like plant porn.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Apparently not carefully enough to read to the part where one should put them in dappled sunlight to start.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The next day, there was a flurry of emails from the group of us intrepid gardeners. I wasn't the only one who burned her seedling.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I woke up at 7 frickin' o'clock. And went back to sleep. And when I woke up, I figured it was 10:00 and I'd better get moving or I'd lose the whole day. I went to the garden center, the office supply store, the pet supply store, Home Depot and Chipotle and was home by 11:00. Did daylight savings time end Sunday? I'm pretty sure I got an extra hour. At least.

§§FOOTNOTE (tendrils): The beauty of a new hobby is the wide vistas of new shopping it spreads out before you.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (sprinkler heads): For those of you wondering what a single chick needs with six tomato plants, I will be canning. Just call me Betty Crocker.

##FOOTNOTE (trellises): Because stroking your plants is a professional gardener-approved addition to the hardening process. Heheheheheheh. Plant fluffer.

†††FOOTNOTE (stakes): My inner demon is four.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (oregano!): I have yet to turn it over. *rimshot*

§§§FOOTNOTE (garden twine): OK, it still looks a little like a weeping willow (weeping tomato?), but it's noticably perkier.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (bulbs): If any of the PTB had seen me, I believe they would have fired me on the spot. After they stopped laughing, of course.

###FOOTNOTE (row markers): Dudes, wouldn't resurrection be a SPECTACULAR add to my saintly résumé?

Horny†

When you‡ run across§ something this awesome first thing on Friday morning, you must say to yourself, "Self,% to hell with it, I'm posting a naked¶ little link," and share with those you love# so they, too, can revel in the wonders of the universe†† and the Internet that brings them to us.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not unsafe for work -- I just make it sound that way because I am a blogtease.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And by, "you," I mean, "I."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Right there on Facebook, under Jax's smiling face.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): You always call yourself, "Self."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Still not prurient.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): That would be you.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Translation: misery loves company.

ibid

...I NEED this.




From ThinkGeek, the people who brought you† the Bone Chillers skull and crossbone ice tray, comes the Crawling Zombie Torso Gelatin Mold.

How much do you want to make Zombie-shaped JellO shots right now?‡

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

No. 1: Urban Tropicalia - Alexandre Herchcovitch & Joachim Correll for Six Scents

The backstory: Six Scents: Series One@ is a collection of six fragrances featuring collaborations between perfumers and fashion designers. An undisclosed portion of the proceeds will go to Designers Against AIDS (DAA) International AIDS Awareness Education Center in Antwerp, originally scheduled to open in December of 2008, but re-set for some time in 2009.

I have procured dollops of all six scents%... do you sense a theme emerging?^

Marin says: Sharp, bitter orange or maybe lime, then it morphs into pine, with a dry something behind it -- like a cedar branch, needles and all. A whiff of lemon lolls in the middle of it, surprisingly similar to the pine.§

There's a definite strata of fresh, white flowers solidly behind, and I would swear I'm getting fig or currant or some other dark, elusive fruit.

As the brighter notes fade off -- and they don't really fade so much as mellow -- a warmer, rounder something flirts with the composition. The floral starts looking like a spicy carnation,¶ just warming from the florist's fridge,# pine still singing in the chorus.

Now, I don't exactly smell amber, sandalwood or musk, but there's definitely something from that classic family. Apparently nothing too loud. Through it all, that cedary dryness just reining it in and making it a bit mysterious.

I think this is a very well-crafted perfume, cohesive, slightly unusual and mischeviously elegant. I like it.

Six Scents says: "The inspiration for this fragrance was driven by the way that Alexandre creates fashion. The creative liberty he uses to design fashion which can be used equally by men or women. This fragrance can be worn at any time, for any occasion, as a form of self expression, to be daring, or simply for the pure pleasure of wearing a fragrance. The Alexandre Herchcovitch scent evokes freedom ad sensuality, and similar to his fashion, the perfume is striking, emblematic and tanscends categories." - Joachim Correll, Perfumer

Ingredients: Erogenous†† Cedar wood$ - Amber Fond,‡‡ Lemon,$ Cassis De Bourgeons,$ Lime,$ Green, [sic] Apple,§§ Apricot, Jasmine, Tagete, Freesia, Cinnamon, Musk.$

Hans says: Tree sappy.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, brought me in any case. Left it right on my doorstep.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I am looking at you, Lyda Kay.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Presumably, they are planning on a Series Two.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Due in no small measure to the (continuing) bad influence of one Nathan Branch.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): We're all about the themes here at the Rickety Blog.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Juno dropped some fine science on me the other day proving lemon and pine have more in common than household cleaners, but if I had the energy to go dig that up, I'd have the energy to write a real post.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): For those of you who don't troll the perfume blogs, carnation IS spicy. It's kinda like freesia or some other distinct white flower with a touch of clove and maybe a hint of cinnamon. Next time you're going past the 12-for-$2.99 bucket in the supermarket floral department, stop, close your eyes and give the carnations a good, deep, thoughtful sniff. Nobody will point and laugh.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I believe I've already relayed this olfactory trigger, but my sophomore year in college, my mom sent me a giant Christmas floral arrangement that had roses, carnatios and pine boughs. That's exactly where I get stuck with anything that has both pine and flowers.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which has to do with erosion rather than sex. I know. I learned about erogenous sinclines during a roadside geology lesson with my dad and have never quite forgiven the geologic world for that not being even half as lustful as it sounds.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I don't know. Google doesn't know. Google thinks "amber fond" is an agony aunt or maybe a 21-year-old in Fond du Lac. Google thinks perhaps I meant to say "amber found." That's the second time in a week Google has been no use to me at all.

§§FOOTNOTE (double sniff - like a double take, only with your nose): Ahhhh. This is why I try really hard to never look at the notes or the perfumers hype before I do my review. I would have TOTALLY gotten green apple (or green, apple) through the power of suggestion. Funny how much lemon and pine smells like green apple. Srsly.

I Don't WANT This...

...I NEED this.


{Announcement by The Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation and LEGO via Yatzer}

Not available yet...

Eyes twitching...

Fingers clutching...

Must have...

Good Morning, Sunshine

No, really.

The sun came out this morning. Now, I'm not one of those sunny day cheery people, but I do feel cheerier about my August trip.

I'm almost always better in the editing.

Oh, Nifty

Looks like I'll be taking a vacation to Portland for very little reason in August.

While I'm there, I'll take a class on how to stretch my knitting muscles.

Stupid sparkly Sock Summit.

I am NOT happy.

I AM pouting.

Have a nice day.

Godfuckingdamnit

Spoke Too Soon

I now have a shopping cart, but registration is a pipe dream.

Please send JellO shots.

A Wasted Education

All my hours and clicks and tears and swearwords and *headdesks* and shrieks and sturm und drang surrounding the fiasco with the Rockies World Series tickets and the more recent debacle of the Nuggets Western Conference Finals tickets somehow did not prepare me for the pain and frustration of being unable to get onto the Sock Summit website to register for classes.

And I have to pee REALLY bad -- racehorse style -- and I know if I leave my desk I'll lose the two-second window alloted me under the Sock Summit version of Murphy's Law and...

Oh. I appear to be in.

Never mind.

Dear Innernets

Screw Katy Perry -- I kissed a boy and I liked it.

Kermie!

Things That Go Bonk in the Night

Heheheheheh.

I crack me up.

Anyway, as you can imagine, Kim is way ahead of me on the Bonk thing,† and sent this new message:

----- Original Message -----
From: Kim
To: Marin
Sent: Tuesday, May 19, 2009 9:08:28 AM
Subject: Am I Giving Away Too Much of the Plot?

"Men's colognes actually reduced vaginal blood flow."

Oddly, the fragrance at the top of the turn-on list: ". . . a mixture of cucumber and Good 'n' Plenty candy."

Kim --- serving up comedy softballs for, oh, several months now.

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

Dudes, it's... a BOOK with... PERFUME and... and... and... SEX and SCIENCE... and... they... it's... FUNNY.

[SUMMARY: Add a little knitting and it's like my own personal Nirvana.]

It just don't get any better than this.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH

Silver Lining

"Denver is the No. 1 city in the nation for a housing and jobs rebound, according to real estate expert Barbara Corcoran, who spoke with the Today Show's Natalie Morales earlier this week."
{from 5280}

Yay, us!

Looking at the Scars in the Sty†

So I have this sty in my right eye.

It's not big and gross.‡ Nobody else can see it. Mostly I can feel it and my eye is gummed up every morning.

[SUMMARY: I am NOT gross.]

But I went to look up sties on WebMD or MediWeb.§ Among the causes? Stress¶ and improper eyelid hygiene.#

Let me repeat: IMPROPER EYELID HYGIENE.

Am I the only person in the world who's never thought about *proper* eyelid hygiene? I thought those things pretty much took care of themselves.†† I mean... don't rub day-old meat in your eye, sure, but... PROPER eyelid hygiene?‡‡

[SUMMARY: There are more things in heaven and earth...§§]

Like I don't have enough to worry about.

And me with new hobbies to nurture along, not to mention the old hobbies to maintain and grow.

Later today: Sex and Scent from Bonk and Kim.¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I can't take credit for that line. When I was ten, Dad had a sty and Mom, being a nurse, was interested in it to a frightening degree. During her nightly examination, he said, "How romantic, sitting here with you, looking at the scars in the sty." I thought it was the cleverest thing I'd ever heard. It still ranks up there.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I feel it's very important you all know I'm not all diseased and red and bumpy and oozing. It's a dainty sty, befitting my dainty self.

I can hear you laughing.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As you do.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I actually went in assuming stress would be a possible cause, since my head's been a hair below "explode" (heheheheh) for two weeks. Mostly I was seeking vindication.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): This is a term that is nearly impossible for me to say. I can't get out of an "improper eyegiene" rut.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): You know... like cats.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): For the curious, the online medical experts suggest you put a warm compress on your eyes every day for fifteen minutes. Not to get rid of a sty, mind you (though that's one of the things you can do for a sty), but in the name of Proper Eyelid Hygiene.

§§FOOTNOTE (the mind spins!): More Shakespeare! We are a literary marvel here at the Rickety Blog!

¶¶FOOTNOTE (Bonk Bonk): Srsly.

Dear Kim,

Stupid Sparkly Sweeheart Fraud

There are moments when I come out of the static and fog and a moment of lucidity will lead me to say to myself, "Self,† perhaps you are taking this a bit too far."

Such was the case the day a couple of weeks ago when I went to my mailbox and found a package I couldn't identify. Where had it come from? Was it a present? As I inventoried my online purchases and expected deliveries, I got nothing.

The return address meant nothing.@

I shook it and it didn't sound like yarn, perfume or tomato planters.%

Finally, I opened it.

[SUMMARY: Your dear ol' AntiM can be a little slow.]

Sweethearts. Special, limited edition, stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearts.

Srsly.

Lucky for me, I got my series of three collectible boxes of special, limited edition, stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearts PLUS an additional box of special, limited edition, stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearts to deconstruct for blog purposes while still maintaining the collectible resale value‡ of the full set of special, limited edition, stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearts.

So box one features stupid sparkly Edward and his lamb,§ along with the whole vampire tribe and some dramatic lighting.




The back of the box not only maps out the special, limited edition flavours¶...




...it has some Twilight Fun Facts for your dining entertainment.

[SUMMARY: It's like a festival of stupid sparkly.]




One might think from the box that:

1. There are three in a series.
2. There is something to scratch and sniff.
3. Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
4. There are special, limited edition, stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearts that actually sparkle.

For those of you scoring at home:

1. True.
2. Sort of.#
3. Debatable.††
4. Filthy liars.

p.s. -- Karen knows EXACTLY what I'm talking about here.

[SUMMARY: Disappointment runs rampant.]




I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I was actually kind of jazzed about special, limited edition stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearths that actually sparkle.

Not only are there no special, limited edition stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearths that actually sparkle, check out the shoddy workmanship on the standard, chalky non-sparkly conversation hearts:




More often than not the words trail off the side, bleed off the top or were apparently left behind on the conveyor belt on which they were decorated.

[SUMMARY: Quality Control at the New England Candy Company must be on vacation.]

Now, what in the hell am I going to do with three unopened boxes of substandard sparkly stupidity?

And how much do you suppose I paid for it?






†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I always call myself "Self."

@FOOTNOTE (atted): I would be remiss (almost was) if I didn't mention that the Amazon seller's name was "Robert Pattison's Mom." And least I *hope* it was her Amazon seller's name and not a thinly-veiled cry for help.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Pretty much the scope of my home delivery world. Except the occasional present from Nintendo, and you know I do the same thing with those boxes.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): What other possible reason could I have had for buying something repugnant just because, apparently, it was numbered and limited edition?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I'm proud to say I no longer remember her name. I'm ashamed to admit I remember his. He's probably more my type.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): The passionfruit is actually quite tasty.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It looked different from the rest of the box, it felt different from the rest of the box, but when I rubbed it (and later scratched the bejebus out of it), it didn't smell different from the rest of the box.

NOTE: For those of you who checked in earlier, I somehow left the last footnote off the original post. Perhaps my brain was trying to save me the embarrassment of admitting how base my thought process really is.

††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For some reason the taste of forbidden fruit ramble finished out in my head with, "...if you blow a married man." You don't find a lot of saints with brains as lascivious as mine.

In Case You Think I've Forgotten...

In my obsessive,† ongoing war on sparkly vampires‡:




I've refrained from posting the Sparkleback Mountain one and the Hugh Jackman vampire hunter one, but this comes from my favourite movie of all time,§ so I gave in to the temptation.

[SUMMARY: The campaign for saint continues... two steps forward, one step back.]

Later this week, we will be exploring stupid sparkly SweeTarts.

Srsly.¶

I couldn't possibly make that up.

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

Une Fleur de Cassie# - Dominique Ropion for Frederic Malle

Marin says: The first shot is pure Aqua Net, but in a flash it becomes a rich, meaty jasmine before skipping off into a woodsy, leafy white floral.

My nose may be deceiving me, but I think I get a whiff of lime or bitter orange. As soon as I take a deep hit to verify, I lose it. Skating along on top is that crayola smell I associate with violet, but it too hides as soon as I go looking for it.

Deeper than pretty white flowers, not so indolent as pure jasmine, fresh and wet for woods -- kind of like a flowering wood after a rain storm -- and not at all overwhelming. I think this would be a particularly nice summer evening scent -- just a wee bit rich and sexy for a summer day -- and not bad for the office, really.

The Perfumed Court says: A rich, intricate fragrance with notes of bergamot orange,$ rose, violet,$ cassie absolute, mimosa absolute, jasmine absolute,$ clove, cumin, apricot, musk, cedar, and sandalwood.

Hans says: I'm getting a lot of floral and a lot of aldehyde. Floral like... I'm not good at picking out flowers. Daisy. Is daisy subtle?

[There's a category generically known as "white flowers" that is usually pretty light.]

That's it, then. I'm going with aldehyde and white flowers.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I warned you right there in the sidebar. Just wait 'til my tomatoes start coming in.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): It's detours like this that make the "still a knitblog" tag necessary.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I didn't say it was a good movie (though I'd defend its soundtrack to the ends of the earth), but it is my favourite.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm using this so much -- yes, I say it out loud and pronounce it with no vowels -- I'm in danger of becoming as irritating as after the South Park Al Gore episode when Tani and I almost drove Jax crazy saying, "I'm totally cereal" at the end of every single sentence we uttered.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I was going to blame Nathan for this, but it turns out it's the work of Bad Influence No. 3, Michelyn Camen (FifthSenseNYC), who is rapidly becoming one of my favourite -- and most expensive -- twits.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): I can't believe I couldn't get the cedar or apricot, but I'm tickled pink I got the jasmine and violet.