my occasional musings on life, love, art, perfume ... what else is there?


I Confess

I confess to Crocs. I ordered a pair. They're black, the professional model. My doctor wears pink ones. Just sayin'.

(note to SSG: What?! They're supposed to be comfortable and I'm hoping they'll make my feet stop hurting. Just don't look at 'em.)


Our Cosmopolitan Family Unit

Oh, some may say we're a bit effete, a bit over the top ... a bit excessive.

We say, "Would you like another martini?"


Weekends Are Not Long Enough

Why did no one tell me work sucks up all your free time? Why? Why?!

And, for a photo of what Terror At Work really looks like (plus linkage to a great article on the current state of perfume criticism PLUS her famous "Rock the Gloss" feature), please visit Blogdorf Goodman !!


Well. I Think It's Funny.

Bizarro, a comic strip by Dan Piraro


L'Shanah Tovah!

Tonight is Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of the High Holidays. To all who observe, gut yomtov!


What I Do After Work Is My Own Business

And I am plenty wild, let me tell you.


I Have Friends Who Are Cowgirls ...

AND who live in Wyoming. And who are wonderful.

You know who you are. All four of you.


The Family of Philip IV or Las Meninas

My love of this painting goes back to afternoons spent in a dark auditorium at the University of Michigan, where I took my first art history survey course.

Surrounded by snoring freshman boys. Who mistakenly thought this would be easy.

What I love most is the painting within a painting ... the artist's inclusion of himself in the scene in the mirror at the back ... and the incredible self-possession of the Infanta, the little princess. As she calmly looks you straight in the eye.

And who ARE you? The painter reflected in the mirror? Or someone altogether different?

painting by Diego Velazquez (1599-1660)


Lady In A Fedora

To my mysterious friend who has twice sent me scents for which I've fallen hard ... thank you.

She was really the instigator of my love for Ormonde Jayne Ta'if (for which I will never forgive, nor forget, her) ... and now she's sent me the elusive (exclusive to Liberty of London) Miller Harris Rose en Noir. A deep rose with some leather beneath it. A mysterious rose-in-the-dark.

You know, I have pictures in my head of all my cyberfriends (some I'm lucky enough to know how they actually look: I have photos or I've met them) ... and the image I have of this friend is a dark haired Marlena Dietrich, giving us a sidelook from beneath her fedora.

Not much is known about her, and she likes it that way.

All I know is she likes rose fragrances, and has wonderful taste in them.

Oh, and she might have been a spy in a previous life.


Moi? I Belong to Red Sox Nation.

(Stephan Pastis cartoon slyly connecting lack of bloghits and NY Yankees' poor performance. Heh.)


Happy Birthday, Suki!

Today's the big day for one of my favorite perfume-and-life bloggers, Suki of cognoscented (who probably wouldn't be caught dead in a Demeter).

Check out her blog for the most exotic take on 'fumes ... and join me in wishing her a wonderful birthday!

(She wants me to: "say I am 74 years old today, wearing pink glittery eyeliner and pink mascara, and that I am wearing a tutu and ripped leotards.

Also, note that the fingernails on my right hand have finally grown to even length, although still too short.

And that the dogs sang a lovely tune in my honor." )


The Bark of My Child

Today, because he is stinky and hairy and hasn't had a bath in a year (well, he does a lot of self-grooming), Bucky was taken to PetDaddy, the local dogbath emporium where he was booked for the premium shampoo, blowdry, anal gland expression (Don't ask. I don't.) AND Deluxe Furminator treatment.

After leaving 110 lbs of wildeyed black dog to the ministrations of the kindly girls at PetDaddy, we took ourselves over to Cafe Lulu where we drank lattes and ate bagels with eggs. Fun for us ... but our minds and hearts were at PetDaddy. I kept asking Jim, "Think we should go over there and check on him?" Jim kept saying, "No."

Eventually though, I convinced Jim that it was close enough to time that we could go back and see how it was going. I stuck my head in the door, said to the person at the counter, "We just came to see how ..." and I hear this anguished bark from the back, a bark that I recognize as that of my gigantic boy.

He heard me! He wants me to rescue him! I'm here, babydog, I'm here!!!

The girl at the counter said, a bit sternly, "He was doing fine. And we're not quite done."

Jim interjects, as he's dragging me back toward the door, "We understand ... we'll be back in a half hour."

But, but ...

Well, eventually they let me have him. With about ten pounds less hair than when he arrived. But I can't tell you how thrilled I was to have heard that bark. The bark of my furchild. Who recognized my voice. MY voice.

I guess you'd have to know how devil-may-care that dog is most of the time about my affection. But now I know the truth. He loves me.




This week, as we approach the fifth anniversary of 9/11, Doug's thoughtful political blog Prattler explores U.S. policy re interrogation and trials of those imprisoned in the War on Terror, in a piece called Reliable and Probative.

I know better than to quote scripture, but the spirit moved me ... and because blogger couldn't stop me, this was my response to Doug's post:

"'What benefit will it be to you if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul?' (Mark 8:36) In this case, we stand to lose the whole world, as we strive toward loss of our own soul.

We have given up so much moral ground at Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo (I wish people would stop being so jaunty with the Gitmo nomer, trying to make it sound like a kids' camp), secret prisons, and God knows what else.

I used to be so angry at this. Now I'm sad and ashamed.

I love this country. I hope it can right itself. And protect itself. And be what we have always believed ourselves to be: a free people, noble and generous and moral in their freedom."

This is true, but there's more to my reaction to 9/11 than this.

I am so sorry.

Sorry for the 3000 who lost their lives. Sorry for their families, those who loved them and had to continue on without them.

Sorry that our reflexive reactions to protect ourself as a nation have led us to isolate ourselves from much of the rest of the world, and have polarized us internally (although there are signs that we are coming together in antipathy against a war we're currently losing).

Sorry that we haven't yet learned what we need to do to heal hatred ... within us, and aimed at us.


Literary Meme

With a bow to Kyahgirl of Mother Hen's Place for her tag, here are my meme answers:

1. One book you have read more than once.
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

2. One book you would want on a desert island.
Voyager by Diana Gabaldon or anything by Dorothy Dunnett, especially from the House of Niccolo series or
The Lymond Chronicles

3. One book that made you laugh.
Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons (mwah, Sarasotagirl!)

4. One book that made you cry.
Mourning Ruby by Helen Dunmore (thanks again to Sarasotagirl!)

5. One (or more) books I wish I had written.
Anything by John Fowles, particularly The Ebony Tower or The Magus. Or In a Dark Wood Wandering, a novel of the middle ages by Helle Hasse.

6. One (Two) book(s) you wish had never been written.
Lord of the Flies by William Golding or Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

7. One book I am currently reading.
The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud (blowing a kiss to Scentered!)

8. One book I have meant to read.
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

9. One (Two) book(s) that changed your life.
Three Black Skirts: All You Need to Survive by Anna Johnson and The Princessa: Machiavelli for Women by Harriet Rubin

photo by Rene Bolduc


Not That There'd Be Anything Wrong With It

New Yorker cartoon in which one male dog explains to the other male dog that enjoying a belly rub from his owner does not mean he's gay.

Insomniac EarWorm Special

Of all the things that could be floating in my sleepless head last night, this had to be it:

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races,
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles,
It's a very, very
mad world, mad world

Enlarge your world
mad world.

G was right: lyrics of Mad World are by Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith of Tears for Fears; the song, featured in the film Donnie Darko, was covered by Gary Jules.


George and Gracie

George: Does he heard sheep?
Gracie: Oh, George, you can't say "does he heard sheep." You should say "does he hear sheep" or "has he heard sheep," but you can't say...
Together: ..."does he heard sheep." NO.


Happy Labor Day!

And I salute your efforts with a *new* *limited edition* Dulce de Leche Oreo cookie! (Watch out! Don't get the cookies wet!)

Today's fragrance: L'Artisan Safran Troublant with saffron! rose! vanilla! sandalwood!


Rabbit! Rabbit!

(Non Sequitur cartoon of the man who understood women: "Screw The Diet.")

Today's Fragrance: Shaal Nur by Etro, with citrus, spices, karo karoundé, narcissus, jonquil ... what I get is a transparent incense-y rose, akin to the sheer beauty of Sonoma Scent Studio's Tranquility. Nothing alike, but that same wisp-of-holy-smokeness quality, plus a subtle florality.