Big Red Delivered!

Our New Baby, Delivered Early This Morning

Paige Snuggling with her Big Red Brother

We love our new sofa even more than we imagined!  

Paige is also in love, and keeps wanting to know, 'where do sofas come from?'

That conversation will have to wait.  B-man hasn't even told her she's a dog yet. 

Photos my own

Mom, Was That You?

This morning, it dawned on me that my encounter with the eagle may have been a sign that my mother was close by.

Looking toward October 20th, I thought a lot about the irony of my husband's birthday falling on the 8-month anniversary of Mom's death.  After considering how the day might unfold, I chose to focus on B-man and to celebrate his - and our - aliveness. 

I believe Mom would want that. 

Since her death, I have looked for my mother everywhere.  For example, each time I see a mourning dove, I think she is near. 

Mourning doves were her favorite birds and I read somewhere that the deceased often communicate their presence through birds.

So why not an eagle?

Why didn't that dawn on me at the time?

Perhaps my letting go of needing to find her, for just 
one day, allowed her the freedom to make a splash and say hello.  

But, by then, I had become so immersed in the day that I missed it.  Until now.

The mysteries of life and death go on.  

Photo from travel-destination-pictures.com

The Geese Police

Geese Keeping an Eye On Things outside our cabin

Photo my own

Perfume in Jackson/The Adventure Of the Day

Jackson Lake

One of my favorite things about being in Jackson is that I don't worry about wearing make-up or running into our hospital's medical director on a Saturday at Macy's (this actually happened).  

That day, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had taken the time to look 'weekend cute.'  

Yes, I really am that shallow. 

Me at Jenny Lake, all natural and shiny-faced

Here, who cares?  

It feels good to de-glam, even though - looking at this picture - I do notice a strange similarity between me and the chipmunks by the lake.

But do I smell good?  Oh, hell yeah.  So does B-man.

I brought a collection of decants on this trip.  They include:

1)  Montale Black Aoud

2)  Montale White Aoud

3)  Montale Aoud Queen Rose

4)  Chanel Sycomore

5)  DSH Patchouly

After we walk early yesterday ( in 25 degree weather!), I decide that Aoud Queen Rose is the Scent of the Day.  It works well aside B-man's Bvlgari BLV Notte Pour Homme.  

Both have great sillage and lasting power, and a complimentary woody/charcoal drydown (AQR adds a mashed up dried rose to the mix).  Together, they reflect the best of the outdoors.

And now: 

Wednesday's Adventure of the Day

We take a drive out of town to Jenny Lake, one of my favorite spots on earth.  Posted everywhere are 'Be Bear Aware' signs that don't freak me out until we are walking around the lake and see exactly one other person (this is the off-season for hikers).  

It feels eerie.

So I'm standing on the path, waiting for B-man while he is taking pictures down by the lake.  I hear a sound behind me like a dog running fast and panting hard.  

For a second, I think, 'I didn't know you can bring dogs here.'  Then, suddenly, I realize it's no dog.  Panicked, I spin around to see a bald eagle flying about 15 feet off the ground, right in front of me.  The noise I hear is the sound of its wings, flapping through the air.  

Until now, I have only observed eagles from a distance.  They soar high above the ground and hardly move, gliding silently on the air thermals.  

But here, in the woods, I am frozen with surprise and awe. This eagle owns the environment, announcing its arrival majestically through sheer power.  I will never forget it.  

Aoud Queen Rose is perfect for this moment.

More adventures to come.

Photos my own.

Happy Birthday To My B-man

B-man  with Paige

Today is B-man's birthday.  We are in Jackson Hole, Wyoming to celebrate, relax and enjoy each other's company.  It's amazing here.

The view from our cabin porch

On this special day, thinking about our life together, here are ten of my favorite things about my husband:

1)  His Big Laugh - this happens spontaneously and with sheer joy.  Just thinking about it brightens my day. 

2)  His Irreverence - nothing is off limits in his sphere of humor, and he's not afraid to cross the line.  I find this incredibly sexy.

3)  His Eye for Detail.  Whether it's decorating or quality clothing, B-man has a way of noticing and remembering important details, great and small.

4)  His Confidence.  B-man is more comfortable in his own skin than anyone I know.  This allows everyone in his presence to be more comfortable with themselves.

5)  His Natural Skill as a Father.  JD thinks the sun rises and sets in the B-man.

6)  His Love for All Living Things.  He catches spiders and carries them outside so they can go about their business.  Sometimes, he names them first.

7)  His Brains.  He's subtly brilliant and this always emerges at exactly the right moment.

8)  His Love of Good Food.  He cooks it, eats it and considers it hugely important in life.

9)  His Unfailing Optimism and Belief in Life's Goodness.

10)  His Freakish Ability to know what will make me happy - and provide it - before I know it myself.

  
To the Love of My Life, Happy Birthday!

Photos my own

Perfume Ads - Seen Any Women Over 40?

When was the last time you saw a perfume ad featuring a woman over 40?  How about over 50?

Thinking about this pisses me off, so I try not to do it very often.  

Still, if I see one more perfume ad featuring a maybe-21-year-old as the targeted audience (even Shalimar, for chrissake!), I may have a hot flash or something.  

Equally annoying is the army of perfume houses that proudly advertise their new gentle floral perfume with light woods and precious musk.  

To target the 21-year-old audience.

This makes me laugh.  Maniacally. 

Really?  A gentle floral blend?  Wow, who would ever have thought of that?  I mean, just because there are hundreds of banal new perfume releases with the same description?  How fucking original!

See?  This is why I try not to think about it.

Okay, let's get practical. 

Women in their 40's and 50's, and beyond, wield power in the world.  We are leaders in organizations, we are politically astute and some of us have raised children, which teaches you a helluva lot about life.

Plus - um, duh - we have more purchasing power.

So how about a little balance?

Go ahead and keep churning out the gentle floral with the musky drydown for the young, female audience.

Knock yourself out. 

But, while you're at it, consider the seasoned audience that might actually appreciate the perfume brief that you're afraid won't sell because it's 'out of step' with 
the market.  

After all, many of us have lived, and thrived, well beyond our twenties.  We aren't afraid to say the wrong thing, eat great cheese, upset the status quo or wear interesting perfume.

Or laugh maniacally.

Feature those women in your ads.  We're out here waiting for the good stuff.

Photos from buzberry.com and stylefrizz.com

Magical Memory of Smell

Aromatic treasures gathered on the farm

'I remember plowing the fields and how, within one pass, I could smell the soil changing from swampy to clay to the dark loem.'

Dad and I are sitting up late Friday evening, drinking wine and talking about everything under the sun.  Somehow, we start reminiscing about the smells of the farm, and we stay on that topic for a long time.  

I ask him to describe the smell of his plowing experience in more detail, like an Ode (he follows my blog and immediately gets the concept).

'Well, the swampy area smells of dandelions, weeds, grass and thistles, but also floral and like...lettuce.'

He furrows his brow, thinking.  'Have you ever smelled rhubarb?' he asks.

'Yeah, sure,' I reply.

'Definitely rhubarb, too.'

'Plowing up the field,' he continues, 'I smell barley stubble with dew, which is a nutty, wet straw smell.  And clay, like a bag of cement before the gravel and water is added.'

I keep listening, quietly.

'The top of the field is the driest and it smells like a sandbox and pollen, but also licorice and molasses because of the dark soil.  Almost moldy.'

'But the best part,' Dad says, his face lighting up, 'is when the engine of the tractor heats to a certain temperature and the fuel exhaust changes to a smell that is sweet and leaded.  It only lasts a few minutes, but, blended with the freshly turned dirt, it's the best smell on earth.'

Wow.  Nice Ode.

Saturday morning, we head out to the farm to see my brother and his family, eat breakfast outside and take the 4-wheeler down into the field.

What a sight we must be.  

Riding through the farm, we stop often to test the smell of different plants.  Anything that is alive is of interest, as well as dried out cattails and flowers that once bloomed, but now crumble like dust when touched.  

We smell them all.

Dad gives me the plastic bag that holds his electrical tape and I begin collecting different items; barley stubble, sage, wild flowers and fuzzy weeds.  

I'm ten years old again.

We pull the stubble out of the ground at different points to smell the earth, noting its metallic, herbal and floral scent.  Dad can identify elements of the soil that escape me at first sniff.  

My nose is pretty damn good.  His is better.

Hanging out with another perfumista?  Great fun.

Spending time with my dad and honoring our history - and memory - through smell?

Simply magical.

Photo my own.