temporarily lost at sea

It's been a bad week. Maybe it was the eviction notice. Pinot and Freddie seems a good way to escape for the moment. And the f*cking awesomeness of Ian Anderson performing with an orchestra. When I was younger I wanted to play like him. Or be his flute.

Winter

Makes me go to the "happy place" that features a sunny deserted beach, a pile of books and a pitcher of something sweet and buzz inducing.

I can never decide whether to shovel out the van before the plow comes, then do it again or wait till afterward and move triple the amount of snow. Not that it really matters. It's all the same snow, just rearranged.

I miss leaves and grass.

Resolutions

I'm not a fan of denying myself things that are pleasurable, so I rarely resolve to stop certain behaviors in the New Year. I don't need to lose weight, I like having a bottle of wine every few weeks and smoking 5 to 10 cigarettes a day isn't good for me, but I certainly smoke less than I used to. I could be nicer to folks that irritate me, but basically I avoid those in my life who make me feel like I need to break out the razor blades. At work I have the"helpful smile" down pat. New Year's resolutions remind me of Lent. Find me a Catholic happy about Lent. There aren't any. This evening I'm going to enjoy the bottle of Pinot Noir I just opened, nibble crackers slathered with fat-laden cheese log and go outside and puff.

But this year I am resolving to do something I will enjoy. I am going to send one postcard a month to a friend. Or maybe more than one friend. Or maybe even...a letter. I honestly don't remember the last time I received a letter. The postcards may be crammed with regards or they may relay a single word or a list of things I'm reading. Technology has made it far too easy not to spend time on people. To loosely quote someone who will begin receiving said postcards: After the revolution we'll have to start writing again.

Geethali Is Her Given Name..

Ravi Shankar's lovely daughter, Norah Jones



Happy Christmas!

she loosed the chain and down she lay

She sings the poem in its entirety on her album "The Visit".

Love Song circa 1981, Clapton is God and a Woman who sounds as Lovely as she did 20 years ago.

Blessed Alchemy

Scent is a powerful thing. Whenever I smell peppers and onions I remember my Memere's kitchen. When I smell warm, wet wool I think of the Appalachian Trail, when I catch a whiff of Chanel No. 5, I think of my mother. A few months ago I received an email from the woman who owns Pura Vida in Brattleboro. Judia concocts amazing lotions, oils, mists and soaps. Sadly, she was discontinuing one of her more popular fragrances: Mayan Gold. An ingredient was obscenely expensive; she just couldn't brew it up any more. I did not receive this news well. I cried. Then I ordered as many bottles as I could afford and vowed to use it sparingly. Mayan Gold is what I have worn every day for nearly 8 years. It is lush. It would be what K23 smelled like in the Tom Robbins book Jitterbug Perfume. It is something I was loathe to live without. So for the last few months I have been frugally spritzing. The bottles are getting low. Two nights ago I lamented to the S.O that it would soon be gone and I wouldn't smell like myself much longer. I wouldn't feel the same. The Minion wouldn't hug me and sigh "Mommy smell". Then this morning I opened an email from Judia. She is bringing Mayan Gold back. Of course it could be that I had only been awake for 10 minutes, but I burst into tears. I am simply giddy with happiness. Obviously, since I'm attempting to share the joy here. It's not just that I feel like I got an early holiday gift, I'm trying to understand why I feel so invested in this scent and why it has triggered in me such a range of emotions.Will I hoard bottles of it now as a just-in-case measure? Is every memory from the last 8 years tied up in that blue bottle with the golden flower? Would I have saved the last drops just to uncap it occasionally and breathe those memories in?

Judia's website : www.vermontoils.com