Here, Smell This

It's a rather charming human foible that we say that, and shove something, generally unpleasant in scent, under someones nose. *

Yesterday, I mopped my kitchen floor on my hands and knees. (Yep, get Guinness on the phone.) I was using Mr. Clean which is filled with Febreeze scent. I then scrubbed my kitchen counters, with Soft Scrub, which is lemon scented. I proceeded to the bathroom, where I cleaned the shower with the spray on Arm & Hammer stuff, which is "clean" scented. (Versus the "damp towel scent"?)

I also ran the dishwasher, using the Cascade Complete, no specific scent, and Lemi-shine, which is of course, lemon scented. What kind of freak sniffs their clean plates, anyway?

I did a load of laundry and used the All Spring Scent, and filled my Downy Dryer Ball with Gain Island Scent. I'm not sure exactly which island it's supposed to smell like. It wasn't Mackinaw, since it didn't smell like lilacs and fudge; it wasn't Manhattan since it didn't smell like urine and it didn't smell like Jamaica because it didn't smell like a blunt.

After vacuuming, I sprayed Febreeze air freshener, Winter Evening, throughout. I then lit a stick of lemongrass incense.

Since I then needed cleaning, I showered, using Dove Energize body wash, which is lemongrass and grapefruit scented. I washed my hair in shampoo that has a faint cherry smell, as does the conditioner. I moisturized after using Jergern's Age Defying Lotion on my legs, which smells like Jergen's, almond cherry, and used Clinique Aromatic Elixir on my arms, so I don't have to use perfume. I styled my hair with the stuff that means I can get a comb through my hair, which smells faintly nutty. I then used the gel that makes my curly hair somewhat less wild, which smells like cucumbers. I don't necessarily want my hair to smell like a vegetable, but it doesn't come in an unscented version.

Since my favorite tee shirt ("I'm Blogging This") was wrinkled, I sprayed some Downy Iron In The Bottle on it, which makes you smell like a dryer sheet.

The best part of this whole overwhelming scent thing, is that I have a horrible sense of smell, from years of smoking and other body abuses. I can barely smell anything.

*The best person to do this to is Mia. I make her smell something awful and she screws up her face and says, "Mommy, why did you make me smell that?"

That Song Stuck In My Head

I've always been a music fan. I've always wandered through life with one song or another stuck in my head. Certain songs remind me of specific moments in the time capsule of my life. Tom Petty's Full Moon Fever album reminds me of cruising down I 78 in Pennsylvania, going to hike on Hawk Mountain, sunroof open, singing at the top of my lungs. John Hiatt reminds me of my failed romance with Dan, Dan, The Dancing G Man. The Grateful Dead's "Box Of Rain" reminds me of walking through the parking lot, pre-concert, and being a little (or more) stoned and hearing, among the vendors extolling their wares, "Hair beading!", "Tie dyes!", "Bongs!", "Veggie Burritos!", some guy yelling, "PB&J!", which cracked me up then and still does.

Martin and I danced to The Beatles, "When I'm Sixty-Four" for our wedding dance. I made him waltz. My husband, The Brit, not known for his dance moves, waltzed with me. I still make him waltz with me when we play that song. He still can't dance. And I still have to convince him that he doesn't need to wear dark socks with his sandals, but that's a whole other blog post.

These days, though, I am more likely to have the theme song from Sponge Bob, iCarly, or Drake and Josh stuck in my head. The sad part is, I know all the words. The theme song from Drake and Josh is actually kind of catchy.

If I decide to put it on my Mp3 player, please, just shoot me, now.

Fashion Faux Pas

Subtitled: I Am A Ditz

Last night, Martin and I had to go to a viewing. Because of my Indiana Ass*, I no longer have many dress clothes that fit me. After trying on several pairs of slacks and my Funeral Dress, I was in despair. The Funeral Dress didn't even go over my hips. My tried and true favorite black slacks, of which I have three identical pair, weren't even close. Another pair was far too funky and casual. I finally stumbled across a pair of black tuxedo style pants, much too large when I bought them on clearance at Macy's years ago without trying them on, which were a little too dressy, but I figured pairing them with a long lab-coat style raw silk shirt would be presentable.

Since I was wearing something more form-fitting than yoga pants or jeans, I knew I should wear my Spanx ™ . Contrary to popular belief, Spanx ™ are not comfortable. They may make you look smooth and not bulgy, but they make me feel like my internal organs are being squeezed into my neck. So when I fished out my black Spanx ™ out of the back of my drawer and put them on, I was pleasantly surprised; they weren't constricting at all. They were actually pretty inoffensive.

It wasn't until I got home and changed back into my yoga pants and took off the alleged Spanx ™ that I found out why they were so comfortable; I actually had on my bathing suit bottoms.

*It's much easier to blame my weight gain, a.k.a Indiana Ass, on the state of Indiana and all the great restaurants around here rather than the fact that I am 42, have had the metabolism of a cockroach for years and refuse to believe it has slowed down, and I eat like fat grams, calories, carbs, and exercise are only a distant rumor, never proved.

The Children's Museum; P.F. Chang's; Your Mom Wears Combat Boots

We took Mia to see the big Lego Castle exhibit at the Children's Museum this week-end. It was very cool and completely amazing to see a huge dragon, among other displays, made out of Legos.

My favorite exhibit remains the Dinosphere, though.

We went to dinner at P.F. Chang's. After hearing all the hype, and never having been to one, we were excited. And of course, disappointed. It's good. It's not great. It was also very crowded and noisy. I thought it was pricey for what it was.

I bought a new pair of boots. They're not Doc Martens but they look like Doc Martens and they are considerably more comfortable than the last pair of Docs I owned. No break in time, at all. So now, both my children can truthfully say, "My mom wears combat boots."

Write A Story That Begins With A 3 A.M. Phone Call

An exercise from my writer's group meeting last night. Let me know what you think.




The blast of the phone at 3 a.m. annoyed Draven. She was busy, after all, her insomnia on high alert. She was busy pacing around her apartment, cigarette in one hand, vodka rocks in the other, busy obsessing about her insomnia.

Good news never came at 3 a.m.

She looked at the table that held the phone, eyeing it warily, but never getting close enough to look at the caller I.D.Finally, the phone stopped. Or at least, it stopped for a few seconds, then started blasting again.

Draven sighed. Her alcoholic mother, on the other end with ice cubes tinkling in the tumbler of cheap wine from a box?

Maybe her jailbird big brother, locked up yet again for some stupid bar fight and looking for bail money?

Certainly not her baby sister tucked snugly in her marital bed up in Tuxedo Park, with Frank,the Wonder Husband.

The phone stopped again.

Draven took a big swig of the vodka in celebration.
Then it rang again.

With a scream, she ripped the phone cord from the wall and stomped across the highly polished, hand made, bamboo floors and yanked open the garbage compactor and threw the entire phone,receiver, base, and tangled cord, into the gaping mouth of the disposal. She hit the "on" button and enjoyed hearing it crunch into pieces.

After the drinking the last dreg of vodka in her glass and crunching the ice furiously, she thought maybe, maybe, she could finally sleep.

New Writer's Group!

I've helped start a new writing group and I'm all fired up.

So far, we have four members, and I think we could use another guy, but I'm inspired! To write! To share my writing! To read others writing!

My current writing prompt is: Write a story that begins with a phone call at 3 a.m.

You know someone is gonna turn up dead with that beginning, if I write it. I know my eyes lit up when Jackie read it from her tiny cute book of writing prompts that I must purchase, immediately.