It Never Actually Rains In Seattle

As you know, we chose Seattle as a getaway spot last week because we haven't had any moisture here all summer in Drought City.  I couldn't wait to immerse myself in the murky comfort of low clouds and rain.  Checking the weather leading up to our trip, Seattle showed rain every single day.  Clothing was planned and umbrellas were at the ready. 

Liar faces.

It never rains when we're there. We may be graced with a light, fleeting sprinkle, but nothing of any substance.  Honestly, it's starting to piss me off.  Especially after B-man informed me Thursday morning that it was raining hard...back home.  Little Mister Optimist went on to point out how badly we need the rain and how, if it was going to rain anywhere, it's probably best that it rained there.  Why, yes.  Of course you're right.  Absolutely.  Kumbaya, my Lord.

Severe eye twitch.

After I talked myself off the ledge, - I told you I might jump - I began to appreciate the clear weather.  After all, we were free to walk anywhere, anytime, and stand outside on the ferry because it wasn't pouring rain.  Plus, it was only 65-70 degrees, and the landscape was green and lush and gorgeous.  We truly enjoyed every day and the locals were simply giddy, enamored by the warmth and bright sun.

Because it rains every day.

B-man mentioned this Murphy's Law of weather on facebook and one of his friends replied, 'That's because sunshine follows you wherever you go.'

Well, now we know.  It's Little Mister Sunbeam's fault.

Image from wherethefairieslive.com

Ode to Sharp by Andrea Maack

Juniper Berry

Sarsaparilla

Candied Almonds

Gravel Road

 Church Pew

Smoking Pipe

Carmex Lip Balm

Image from Fragrantica.com

Perfume Update

Yesterday, my Fourth of July perfume was...

Trish McEvoy Sexy 4

I've had a small sample from Nordstrom for months, and would describe Sexy 4 as naughty gardenia.  Gardenia that smokes when no one's looking.  Gardenia on a Harley.

Mom used to love gardenias, so my sister and I made sure she had a big gardenia corsage every mother's day to wear to church.  Until one year, when Mom said, 'will you please not get me a gardenia corsage for Mother's Day this year?'  I can't remember now if it was because she changed her mind about the smell of the flower, or because she felt awkward with a huge corsage dangling off her dress.

Sexy 4 is not a corsage gardenia.

But it didn't last long, which is one of my perfume pet peeves.  Thinking I was seducing B-man beyond words, I asked him what he thought of my perfume.  He sniffed my neck so close his nose touched, and said, 'I can barely smell it.' 

Seduction buzz kill.

Fortunately, I just like - not love - Sexy 4, so its wimpiness has me only mildly annoyed.

Image from norkflorist.com

Seattle Through My Eyes

B-man on the Ferry to Bainbridge Island



American Band Playing before Fourth of July Parade on Bainbridge



City View at Dusk



Twin Sailboats on Elliot Bay



Street View from Our Room

 Images by Josephine

Random Seattle Perfumes Revealed

Here are the perfumes I packed for our trip:

Karma by Lush
Vintage Patchouly by DSH
Dune by Dior
Black Aoud by Montale
Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens
Jovan Musk
Notre Flore Iris by L'Occitane
Trish McEvoy Sexy 4

We're only in Seattle for three days, and so far, I haven't worn any of them.  Suddenly, it seems morally wrong to wear perfume on the plane.  And interrupting the smells of the city with a frantic application of perfume once I get here just feels...stupid. Who would want to miss the sillage of fish, brats and pasta mixed with the smell of the freshly cut flowers at Pike Place Market, which results in the aroma of piss?  Once I understood its components, the scent was suddenly charming. 

As always, I am delighted to be here and the same thought floods my mind each time I fly into the city, right before we land: 'This is where I belong.'

Tomorrow, we will celebrate the Fourth of July in Seattle (if you also celebrate this holiday, I wish you a wonderful day, too).  Which perfume do you recommend?

Image from paultownend.com

Get Your Own Damn Umbrella

Tomorrow, we're flying to Seattle for a few days to get out of the almost 100 degree weather of our desert home town.  If it doesn't rain while we're there, I'm jumping off the hotel balcony.  Okay, there is no balcony. 

But if there was, I swear I'd do it.

Tonight, we're packing, which means I wander around, throw clothes on the bed and spend most of my time deciding what perfume to take.  If I wasn't sick of thinking about perfume, I'd recite my selections now. 

To help us with this process, B-man put together a packing list on his computer.  Actually, he did this years ago, and it has morphed over time. For example, the list used to have 'blow dryer' and 'iron' on it, but now hotels provide those items.

Yes, I am that old.

Sitting in the kitchen tonight, I'm eating cheese and crackers like it's the last meal I'll ever have when B-man says, 'do you have an umbrella?'

Me: 'Huh?'

B-man: 'Is your umbrella in the car?'

Me: 'I thought you had them.'  (We agreed to take two after an umbrella sharing fiasco the last time we visited The Emerald City.)

B-man: 'No, you always have an umbrella in your car - do you want me to go get it?'

Me:  'Sure, whatever.'

He goes out to the car and comes back in.

B-man: 'Look, it's not my job to get the umbrellas.'

Me: 'I don't expect you to get the umbrellas.'

B-man:  'I don't want to take care of all that.'

Me:  'Fine.'

B-man: 'You have a list.'

Me: 'Great, you take care of yourself.'

B-man hates that I don't follow the list when I'm packing - then I end up needing his sweatshirt or using his deodorant...or wearing his Gris Clair.

Of course, a pre-trip hissy fit is expected.  But now, the umbrella storm has passed and we're on Big Red, drinking wine and having a happy snack.  All is well.

Image from clotheslineblog.com

Embarrassing Things I've Said and Done This Week

Lately, I can't seem to get through one day without embarrassing myself.

Yesterday, I was reminding B-man about a scene from one of my favorite movies, A Few Good Men.  'You know, the one with Jack Lemmon.'

Jack effing Lemmon.

After a polite pause, B-man said, 'I think you mean Jack Nicholson.'

I may never have figured that out on my own.

Earlier in the week, during a conference call, I made what I thought was a reasonable suggestion.  We're asking our nurses to use one system to get medication information, so why don't we consider eliminating the other three, which are much less effective?  Almost simultaneously, everyone on the call yelled said, 'No!'  They went on to give long-winded explanations about how the doctors really needed these systems and we could never, eh-heh-ver take them away.

Jeez, have a cow.

But the most embarrassing has to be the picture I offered our communications department to use with an article about me in our business newsletter.  It's not just any old picture. I had B-man take multiple shots of me in different outfits, at different angles and with different backgrounds.  Only a few made me look like a chipmunk.  We poured over them and picked the best two, one of which I sent to Communications.

Later that day, I received the following e-mail:  'It looks like we're going to need a different picture.'  'We'll arrange to have one taken next week.'

It looks like?  You mean after it was passed around the office and everyone laughed hysterically at my hideousness?  It probably hangs in the boardroom - blown up - with the NO sign, like Ghostbusters.  The best I can hope for now is that they take it down before our next meeting.

What embarrassing things have you done lately?

image from integral-options.blogspot.com