Flirtation Nation

I've recently been accused of being a flirt....a rather large one at that. Moi?? Yet unintentionally I've acquired a stalker most persistent and thus, tragically, I've lost my grocery store. Do you know how traumatic that is?? Dammit, I KNEW where the turnips were! The coffee was in isle three and they had a particular kind of herbilicious brie I'd consider playing truth-or-dare for...

Then I ruined it. *sigh*

"How could this happen?" you ask. With a COMPLIMENT. A measly, weasly completely normal compliment! Except apparently someone has changed "the rules"and I missed the twitter or download or version III or whatever. Harumph.

This supposed "marriage proposal" of a compliment occurred in the check out line. 20 minutes of perusing the smashing array of vapid magazine covers and catching up on the latest of who's sleeping with who while adopting children after plastic surgery gone awry in Uruguay had left me at a loss and the sweet cooing of this darling baby in the buggy next to me was a welcome distraction.

There was a smile and a bit of drool combined with the foot kick and a squeal--a dead ringer move for stealing any heart--and I giggled right back! She laughed and I laughed and then glancing up at dad-e-o I commented, "She's really quite charming!"

Wouldn't you know it, unbeknownst to me, this particular phrase has been upgraded from "casual conversation" to "hussy pick-up." Dear Saint Jehosophat and his pet clown.

He followed me to my car.

Two days later he chased me down the dairy isle inquiring how to pick yogurt.

He even came into "Tampon Alley" with a toothy grin causing utter panic and I fled, leaving my buns behind.

However, when regaling pals with this tale of woe, I was informed most readily by said pals that it is now actually written in "How to get a date" books: Phase 1. Grocery store compliments.

AHHHHH!

Do you mean to tell me that the "was it still raining when you came in?" is now a request to crash happy hour? "That looks like a fabulous melon" might get you slapped, and "oops, you dropped your crackers" is storefront foreplay??

Dagnabbit.

Can someone please send me a new copy of these rules?? Does this apply to...say....the Verizon store? (I am SO re-thinking voicing my desire for "upgraded attachments") What about the mall? Can I still ask for double cream in my coffee or will I be labeled as a sex addict for life?

I've put off getting the oil changed in the car indefinitely. Somehow I'm certain "Please sir, will you check my fluids and lube the chassy" is not going to end well....

The Scent of Life

It's late now. The summer night has bled the heat of the day with a vampires patient thirst. Sucking it slowly, draining the heavy thick air. The curtains beside me billow; sheer fabric whispering a lover's endearments. I sigh. Like wayward Christmas lights escaped from their string, the fireflies dance below in an endless game of tag.

Yet as I sit here, it is not the sound of the night that occupies me. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle, the chatter of neighbors dim and distant. It is not the slick feel of my shower-damp skin, random drops of water sliding down my neck from the hair coiled above.

.

For woven, entwined and infusing it all is the scent, the aroma....the fragrance of life.

I close my eyes. It permeates the air. Saturates my pores. The smell of grass and smothered bonfires and summer baked pavement. Grilled salmon with dill, incense.....paint. The coffee pot is filled with fresh ground, set for early morning. "April freshness" is spilling from the sheets in the the dryer into the warm night. The drift of smokey sweetness from the swirling whiskey on the desk tempts me...

Scent is so powerful. Its cognitive stimulation and connection to memory is utterly astounding. Recently I was driving with the windows down and while I am unsure of the elements that were involved, without warning I was inundated by the smell of my childhood babysitter's home. It's half a dozen states away in the mountains of Colorado and though I was only there a handful of times--the absolute vividness of that brown shag carpet and towering A-frame house was nearly overwhelming. I haven't had reason to even think about that place or my four year-old world in decades....but there I was.

.

She was putting marigolds in a glass on on the table.

Have you ever been swept away to your grandmother's kitchen via a simple apple pie? Drug back into a nightmare by the scent of your ex's cologne? Every time I smell fresh ground nutmeg I land in a bowl of warm rice pudding wrapped in a shawl on a crisp autumn day.

Ironing shirts leaves me standing next to my father before he left for work....

I am addicted to scent. Perfumes and lotions and incense and food. I love when someone walks into my home and says, "wow it smells so good..." Utter joy when I see the boys pause in the doorway after school and just inhale.

Home.

You can use scent to lose weight, improve your mood, even increase your passion and desire. Fragrance lures us, inspires us, transports us.

Tonight, it has me wrapped in Summer, enfolded in her delicious warm arms, and reveling in the night.

Whoops.

Recently I was told I've been a tad absent. Sincere apologies here--there have actually been several consecutive days when I've been unable to find the time to check mail, much less collect my scatterbrained thoughts into a comprehensible sentence! With a ninety-three year old living in my first floor guest room and three boys under 12 home for the summer--my life is now consumed by scraped knees, fruit loop wars, skate board ramps, "eggs & bacon" at the pool (have you heard of this??), and lost false teeth.

In the midst of the mayhem, lessons have been learned this steamy summer....oh please do sit back and listen, wisdom of the ages here.....

Episode one: Decorating Sense.

When mixing ALL of your friends from many different walks of life, backgrounds, and places together for your Party-Lite bash; it may not be a good idea to get creative with your centerpiece. For while you may indeed think that the little green bottles, lined up on the silver tray, with a single daisy in each, surrounded by a handful of glittering seaglass and shells looks just divine on the dining room table.....it only takes one pal from your college days to comment, "Say, aren't those Jagermeister minis?!" to swing your soiree from "elegant afternoon tea" to Friday night bar hop. Tequila anyone?

Episode two: Use a Hammer, dammit.

It was a scorching hot day last June. We were moving and my darling parents had come to help us. Now, while I'm simply amazed by this generosity--this amazement faded a bit as we dismantled our king size bed. Nearly done, I left to root out a hammer to separate the frame. From the kitchen I hear crazy crashing noises--what in the name of Hosophat's hangers?? Returning to the bedroom, I discover my father--my 10 lb solid chunk-o-steel weight in hand--beating the crap out of my bedframe. "Heh, heh--didn't need that hammer after all!" he proudly says as the now slightly twisted and mangled bits of metal fall apart. "Ummm....thanks pop."

Fast forward. This weekend.....3 lovely long days with the kids gone to my ex's for the holiday and some privacy! Hubba hubba darlings. We made one run to the grocery for ice-cream, to the butcher for steaks to grill, and to the beverage store for the makings of a killer pitcher of long islands! A delicious delving into the sensual and forbidden fruits....

It's 3:30 in the afternoon and after a smashing lunch and leisurely shower...we retire for a little afternoon delight. (wink, wink) A half hour later, our fabulously crooked bedframe is being put to the test....ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-THUNK.....and drifting up from downstairs is the voice of my grandmother, "WHO IS IT?!?!"

Thanks dad.

Episode three--Storage.

First mistake: We were throwing a party with about a 75-80 person guest list--kids included. (no, I don't smoke crack-why do you ask?) and I was racing about stashing stuff. (this is my idea of cleaning when pressed for time) And there is that....well, tub-o-adult-fun that needs to be...changed. It's a clear tub....and...well, you know. So I'm searching for something you can't see through and come across an extra lego tub--you know, the one that looks like a giant blue lego? PERFECT! (I know, I know....) And yes--several hours later I discovered my youngest son--thoroughly confused because, "these aren't legos mom..."

Second mistake: Do I go out and shop to buy a discreet container to....NO! What, you think I'm made of money?? Of COURSE I just grab an extra holiday tub from the seasonal decorations.

It was marked "Summer."

Episode four: Parrot Head.

I'd had enough squabbling over the party parrot for the day so I stuck him on top of the toaster oven in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to me, the little switch was still on. (you say something and in his endearing shriekish parrot voice, he screams it back to you twice) So the phone rings, I'm up to my elbows in roasted chicken and garlic with "mo-ooom, I'm hungry!" whining from the living room and the last thing I need is the fleebity bleep phone. "Mommy needs a drink!" I hiss in exasperation as I pick up the cordless....."Hello?"

And as the pastor's wife sweetly asks how I am, Party Pete squawks across the kitchen, "Mommy needs a drink! Mommy needs a drink!"

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Oh my....summer has just begun. Did I mention we're going camping for a week??