Happy New Year!!

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Perfume in 2010: My Very Own List

Perfumes I Wore Most in 2010:

Jardin en Mediterranee - My #1 go-to perfume

Borneo 1834 - Always leads, never follows

Agent Provocateur - Beauty and brains

Montale Aouds:  Black, White & Queen Roses

Perfumes I fell madly in love with in 2010:

Black Aoud - Oh. My. God.

Rose 31 - Makes me crazy in a good way

Eau du Soir - Luca Turin can bite me

DSH Memory and Desire - Melancholy bottled

Perfumes I Love But Hardly Ever Wore in 2010:

Sycomore - Rarely in the mood to smell this 'green'

Ambre Sultan - Beautiful, but big sillage

Narcisse Noir - Always the bridesmaid

Tea For Two - If only the smoke lasted longer

L'heure Bleue - Best as an 'evening alone' scent

Neglected Perfumes Rediscovered in 2010:

Angel Lily - Makes me feel peppy

Jungle l'Elephant - Fine suede in cool weather

Sonia Rykiel Woman - Friendly and warm

Dune - Salty oriental

My Favorite Slutty Perfumes of 2010:

Jean Paul Gaultier - Maybe, if you ask nicely

Poeme - Don't get my white gloves dirty

Fracas - You can look, but don't touch

Perfumes I Tried to Love in 2010, but Don't:

Amouage Lyric Woman - Oh, hell no

Paloma Picasso - Horses, plain and simple

Nuit de Noel - Interesting start, nasty finish

Bandit - Makes me cranky 

Paestum Rose - Promising start but wimps out

Iris Silver Mist - Trying a bit too hard

Cuir de Russie - Girly leather wannabe

Chanel No. 5 - Aldehydes unbecoming

2010 Delightful Perfume Experiences:

Perfume Blogging friends
DSH Essense Studio in Boulder, CO

Image from clipartof.com

Winter on the Farm

Roadside view of the farm

On Tuesday, Baby sis and I made the two hour drive from the city to visit Dad. 

First, we all went to the cemetery and I saw Mom's headstone for the first time.  It's beautiful.

Then, we made the 'lotto ticket/farm loop.'

None of us live on or by the farm now.  My parents sold the livestock and moved into a larger city twenty years ago. The land is leased to others who plow, plant and yield crops each year. 

Dad and my brother placed a trailer on the farm last year so that any of us can go and play and spend the night if we want.

This is where I grew up, where my grandparents lived and where the drama of our lives unfolded.  

Part of me will always be there.

Old buildings on the farm

Snowy fields with plow stripes

Dad's trailer 

What used to be my grandmother's house on the farm

View of the house I grew up in from grandma's

Ducks wondering what we're doing on the road

Pictures my own, taken on Tuesday

Ode to Eau du Soir by Sisley

Lemon Furniture Polish

Fresh Parsley

Green Rose Stem

Tool Kit

Grass Stain

Just Before Sunrise

Leather Incense

Picture from perfumezilla.com

Death Unfinished, Words Unspoken

 

My mother fought hard to stay alive. 

After we were told by her doctors that nothing more could be done, and she was put under hospice care, the writing was on the wall.  

But she kept fighting.

So we didn't talk about the fact that she was dying.

Several times, I approached the topic of death with Mom and was told, in no uncertain terms, that we were not going to have that conversation.  Talking about death, according to her, would signify that we had given up hope and would only hasten her decline.

For the next two months, we lived in the reality of Mom's stubbornness and our denial.  Because of that, we missed the small window of opportunity when she may have been able to engage in meaningful discussions with each of us. 

Honestly, I feel angry about that now.  Angry that my mom couldn't have a conversation that might have brought peace to her children and to her.  Angry that I was alone in wanting to help her move toward greater acceptance rather than join her in denial.  Angry that we watched her die and so much is left unfinished. 

And now, it's too late.

It's done.

Inner Critic thinks I'm being unfair and childish.  People have the right to live - and die - the way they choose.  Intellectually, I understand this.

But, as a daughter, my emotions get in the way of my logic.  And, as a mother, I can imagine some of what I would want to tell my son.

Like how much I love him and what a light he is in my life.  And maybe we'd share memories like the time, as a little boy, he begged us to play The Dark Crystal over and over again at the part where Fizzgig throws a tantrum, and he laughed so hard he almost passed out. 

Or we would laugh about how I used the f-bomb multiple times the one day I tried to teach him to drive.  B-man took over from there.

I would let him know that nothing can ever diminish my love for him and I will comfort and protect him in every way that I can, even in death.

That's what I needed to hear from Mom.  

I know she loved me, but I'll never know what she might have said had she known she was leaving us. 

In the coming years, I can imagine many one-sided conversations at her grave.  Someday, I may come to terms with that.  But right now, her death is the unfinished business of my life.

fairytalenewsblog.blogspot.com

We Made It Through The Day!

Is anyone else relieved that Christmas is over?

Our day was lovely, even though I missed my mother more than I expected and was surprised by sudden tearfulness a few times during the day.   I had told myself - erroneously, as it turns out - that by feeling the grief in advance, Christmas day itself would be easier.

Not so much.

Still, B-man and I managed to have a great time.  Together, we delivered plates and small gifts on Christmas Eve, then hung out with JD and Georgie Girl (JD's amazing wife) yesterday.  Last night was spent enjoying family at my sister's home.  

We will resume our tradition of group dancing to Livin' La Vida Loca another year.

Scent of the Day?  Montale's White Aoud (this full bottle purchase was my Christmas gift to me).

Today will be spent doing a lot of...um...let's see...nothing.

Happy Day After Christmas!

picture from thefederationoflight.ning.com

Merry Christmas To My Mother

  

Christmas morning and you're not here for the first time.

You are missed and loved.  And always remembered.

Merry Christmas to you, Mom.

Image from webshots.com