Concrete Jungle Foray

I am a small-town girl. No, wait! I'm not even a small-town girl. I'm a Midwestern prairie girl. Cities make me nervous. Heck, even trees make me nervous. They make me feel closed in. I like to have rolling grasslands around me with a view that lets you watch approaching storms long before they arrive at your place. Where you can chart the progress of your neighbor's plowing by the location of the dust he's kicking up two fields over from your farm and you can see a visitor coming long before they pull into your driveway, giving you plenty of time to put the coffeepot on and heat up that pie.

I guess that's why it's been 31 years since I've been to New York City as a tourist, despite the fact that we've been living just one state over from the Big Apple. Sure, I've gone through the area to get to the airport back in the late '80's and I've touched down and changed planes several times at JFK Airport but seriously, it's been 31 years since I've gotten out and walked around parts of the city. So I was a tad nervous about venturing there this past weekend but a group of us had signed up to go on a bus tour from Lancaster, PA to the Brooklyn Tabernacle to hear Jim Cymbala preach.

I almost didn't get to go because at 10 p.m. the night before we were to leave, my husband looked at me and said, "Did you make any arrangements for the dog?" Yikes! I guess we've developed such an Empty Nester mentality that I had plum forgot that we had any living creature still dependent on us. We made some frantic phone calls and finally reached our Music Minister and friend, Phil who is easy-going and unflappable enough that we figured he would be least likely to run for the hills when faced with 17 pounds of fluffy white fury. Our usual dogsitting friends were off camping for the weekend so thankfully, he agreed to stop by the house and let Fresca out on his way to church in the morning and in the evening. Thanks, Phil!

We had to leave the house at 5:15 a.m. in order to meet the bus on time. I was NOT awake which is why there are no pictures. I forgot to take my camera. I did, however, remember to take my knitting so I managed to make considerable progress on the second sock that is destined for a Christmas gift.

As we approached the city, we could see the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building in the distance. My, they looked tiny. It's all a matter of perspective, isn't it? The Brooklyn Tabernacle was awesome. It reminded me of the old movie theatre I used to go to back home with its Neo-classic, gilt decoration along the walls, the balcony, and the stage. And the people! My, the place was filled. It was just great to look out over the congregation and see such a diverse group, all worshiping together. The style of worship was more charismatic than that of my home church and I enjoyed it. It's nice to feel free to raise your hands in worship or praise the Lord aloud.

After the service, our bus took us to Pier 17 where we were free to chose a restaurant for a late lunch and then wander around until it was time to head for home. We ate at a quasi-Irish pub. I wish I had a picture to show you of the french fries that came with my fish. They were perfect! I asked for them extra-crispy and they came with just the right amount of crunch. Had to ask twice for the side of mayo to dip them in but once that came, I was in carb heaven.

It was after lunch that NYC really started to get to me. There were people everywhere. You couldn't just walk down the sidewalk without having to step around booths with vendors trying to sell you this or that. Buses galore, both tour and city buses, kept barreling past spewing noise and exhaust in their wake. Honking seemed to be the preferred method of communication between cars. I grasped my husband's hand and said, "Get me to the nearest open field, NOW!"

There are people who are cut out to live in big cities and there are people who are cut out to live in more rural areas. There might even be some advantages to big city life. Give me another 31 years and I might think of some.

Making Scents of It All

In my typical OCD way of doing things, I have discovered the joys of collecting and trying out new scents. It's almost as much fun as collecting beautiful yarns from new Indie dyers. Almost, but not quite. Believe it or not, there are Indie perfumers out there as well.....folks who have forged their own path of sniffiedom. Not merely content to join the ranks of Bath and Body devotees or willing to lay down the big bucks for watered down smells from big name fragrance companies, these folks have put their noses on the line (so to speak) and come out with their own fragrances, usually in the form of body oils and sometimes, soaps.

Going up on their websites and reading the descriptions of their different perfumes is infinitely entertaining. YOU try to figure out what the smell of a "newly-opened grave" smells like. I'm not sure if I want to know, quite frankly. "Freshly-baked apple pie" is more my style or "sun-warmed peaches on a summer's day." Those are pretty tame. But some of these talented and imaginative folks have come up with scents that mimic types of wood, leather, tobacco, smoke, breezes, laundry (both fresh and dirty), every flower imaginable, spices galore, and the list goes on.

It's a hoot to read the descriptions of these scents. It's even more fun to read the names that the scent designers label their scents. Here are some of the names of the scents I have purchased lately: Brain Bleach, Gingerbread Crackhouse, Eye of the Moon, Over the Rhine, Stingy Jack, etc. Those are some of the tamer ones. Some are funny, some are purely descriptive, like "Pumpkin Pie", and some are downright wierd. But they are all names for scents that you have to smell to believe. And here's the challenging part ---- a scent will smell different on individual people because we all have different body chemistry. And there is one smell when you first apply it wet, another as it dries on you, and then a lingering smell after the initial dry-down. There is also a "throw", which means (I think) how far folks can smell you coming when you have it on. If you're wearing something that smells like a smoking, newly-opened grave, you might not want to "throw" too far.

Since you aren't sure how a particular smell will smell on you, it's wise to buy different scents in a sample size, which most of the vendors are happy to sell you. These little vials have a surprising amount of perfume oil. It doesn't take much of it for you to figure out if the scent is going to work for you or not. Since there are so many to choose from, you need to come up with a storage system. Thanks to other bloggers and scents forums, I discovered that a handy holder is a plain old cartridge case that you can pick up at any outdoor sports shop. They are perfect for the sample sizes you order.

Once you start acquiring a fair amount of samples and actual bottles of perfume oil, then you need a way to keep track of what you have, what scents you like, and why. I made up a simple little chart where I can plug in perfumes sorted by vendor/designer. I list the scents that each perfume consists of, how much I have of it, and whether or not I liked it. Over time, I hope to see a pattern emerge that will help me identify the types of scents that I know won't do well on me. I already know that I don't do well with certain scents like roses, gardenias, and some exotic spices. They tend to give me a headache or a stuffy nose. But put me near certain foodie smells like apple pie, caramel, butterscotch, coffee and I'm in heaven!

Once you get hooked on discovering new scents, you will find that there are all sorts of products and collections to hold your interest. There are chapsticks, solid stick perfumes, whipped body butters, sugar scrubs, body washes, and soaps. There are limited edition collections that come out throughout the year. There are seasonal collections that appear like the wonderful autumn scents that are out right now. I can decide if I want to smell like a cappuccino, a buttercream frosted caramel cake, or a spiced apple cider. I could have smelled like a floozy but I didn't like how that one smelled so I traded it off to someone else. If you want to discuss scents with others who are equally obsessed, there are forums at most of the "sniffie" vendors I've listed on this blog.

So, my friends, if you're brave enough to try something a little out of the ordinary, click on any of the Sniffie links I've put on the blog over on the right and order some samples. Dare to march to the drumbeat of a different perfumer! Gotta go now and eat supper. Mystery book club meeting tonight. I'm off to wash my hands with some Krakatoa soap and then it's time to chow down.

Mom Reaches A Big Milestone!

Yesterday my mom turned 95 years old. Now that's something to be proud of. She had a little dress rehearsal on the previous Saturday when our daughter and son-in-law were able to come up from the Washington, D.C. area for the weekend. We took BBQ ribs over to the care facility, presents, and a cake and had a little party for Mom.

The day got off to an interesting start when I sent daughter, Laura off to Mom's room to fetch her down to the private lounge while I decorated for her party. When Laura wheeled Mom in, I asked if Laura had the chance to meet Mom's new roommate. She looked at me askance and said, "Well, she was yelling, "Help, I'm dying" over and over. I asked her several times if I could help her or get a nurse for her but each time she'd just look me over and then go back to yelling. I did alert a nurse before we came down here but I couldn't see that she was having any real problems."

"Oh, my," I thought.

We had a great meal. Mom had been craving BBQ ribs since Mother's Day so she dug right in. Her friend, Beverly and husband Denis were able to join us and we all had fun eating and chatting before it was time to open the presents, Mom's favorite part.
She was appreciative of the new clothes but her eyes REALLY lit up when she opened the candy. Beverly always knows how to put a sparkle in Mom's eyes...truffles or peanut butter bears. This time, she brought both for Mom. Faster than we could say, "Would you like one, Mom?" she had a peanut butter bear out of the box and into her mouth.
Luckily she still had room for the cake as did we, after the chocolate was passed around the room. Let's hope the facility dietician doesn't see all this stash in her room. On the other hand, at 95 years old, I figure she has earned the right to eat all the chocolate she wants, especially since they tell me she usually has no interest in eating.

That brings us up to Mom's actual birthday yesterday. I went on over to have lunch with Mom. She was all decorated up with balloons on her wheelchair and a special glow about her. Mom loves a good party as long as it's a dry one. No alcohol for this former deaconness, thank you very much! Cooks, wait staff, and nurses came up to Mom and gave her big hugs and best wishes in the dining room. The Chaplain stopped by to congratulate her.

"How old are you now?" he teased. "Are you 69?"

"No," replied Mom, firmly. "I'm 95."

One of the other residents at the next table kept waving at Mom and she would wave back. Then it escalated to "Whee!" from the other table. "Whoopee!" shouted Mom in return. After about two minutes of that, I had to give Mom a little nudge and "shush" because the lights were being dimmed for the prayer before lunch.

It was a great lunch accompanied by a volunteer who was playing many old songs on the piano as we dined. Mom would occasionally break out into song, singing along with the piano.....even harmonizing. I told her that not many people can say that they have had a concert for their birthday party. Near the end of lunch, Beverly stopped by to say "hi" and also our church's Director of Music, Phil Cockrell.

As I prepared to leave after lunch, I reflected on the words of wisdom she had shared with all of us on Saturday when asked what she had learned in her 95 years. "Look up, laugh, love, and lift," she had said. It's been a motto that has served her well. And I thought about another piece of advice that she has given me over the years. "If you think about others, you won't have time to sit around and feel blue," she'd say.

Well, Mom. Here's to you! May we continue to enjoy the favor of your presence for years to come. You've taught us the value of friendship, the benefit of hard work, the thrill of scholarship, the treasure of family, and the joy of our Faith by the life you have lived. Happy Birthday!