I heard a study the other day on NPR from the director of the Smell & Taste Treatment and Research Foundation, Dr. Alan Hirsch. Yes, there really is a research center called that. I wonder if you work there, do you start in the “dirty socks and spoiled milk” division as an intern and work your way up to “Godiva chocolate and gardenias” research? The study he was commenting on had to do with how men respond positively to certain smells (e.g. get turned on). It was noted too that ANY scent increased desire, so it just goes to prove the old adage about guys getting turned on by just the wind blowing. I listened with interest and made a wild guess that the smell of the guy trinity (the remote control, a beer, and pizza) would top the list.
I was out getting my car tuned up and stopped on the way home to fill up the tank before heading across Atlanta. I pulled into a QT on a cold, windy Saturday, hopped out of the car and popped the gas cap off. I didn’t notice him at first and was humming to myself as I made a mental checklist of what I needed to do that day. As I turned to look out over the road, I caught sight of him and my heart stopped. He was holding very, very still and his eyes were focused on me intently.
The changing of the seasons always makes me feel a little introspective. I usually look over my goals for the year as December nears and flip through my wall calendar (you know, those paper things with pretty pictures that hang on the wall) to think about the past months. The Sugar Maple outside my window is practically glowing like a red ember and the humidity is ebbing away on cool mornings hinting that frost is coming soon, making me a little restless for change. Not discontent necessarily, just restless.
As I mentioned before I really want to be handy (see my previous post “Can we fix it? No, we can’t..”) , but it never really works out well when I try. I am however, ignoring this fact and attempting to do a mother-son project in my older son’s room. It is actually an act of penance for him, as we are repairing a hole he punched in his wall. Ah, I miss the good old days of kicking, screaming and rolling around on the floor temper tantrums… The hole is slightly larger than a salad plate so toothpaste won’t work like it did in college to patch holes in apartment rentals, but it would leave his room smelling minty fresh. I went online to google “wall repair” and found a DIY video that outlined what we needed to do this appropriately. How hard can it be??? That thought should have been my first clue.
I have become painfully aware of another thing to look forward to as we age. There seems to be an issue with older folks reverting to preschool behavior, walking and tooting at the same time, in public places. I have unfortunately observed this several times in the past months with certain “ladies” of a certain age. The first time it happened I was appalled as someone walked by me in a library and launched an audible, without even missing a step and acted like it didn’t happen. I looked around waiting for the paint to peel off the walls or small children to fall over, but it didn’t so I assumed I hadn’t heard what I thought I heard (and I did have a cold, so maybe my smell was off).
I was waiting to see my doctor for an annual exam and noticed a couple sitting to my left. She was visibly uncomfortable, being very pregnant, and there was a lot of sighing and shifting going on in her chair. I saw her and her husband watching Eric, who was waiting with me, as he worked on homework, read Sports Illustrated and playedNFL 10 on my phone with curiosity. The dad asked how old he was and we began talking about their little boy who was overdue by four days (poor mama). He was ready to start cheering “push him out, push him out, wayyyy out” he was so anxious for this baby to be born. The mom smiled wearily as she hoped that today was the day. I wished them luck as they walked out the door and thought to myself, be careful what you wish for! A good night’s sleep is highly undervalued until you become a parent.
I was talking to friend on facebook the other day and she asked me whatever happened with the guy I had met through another friend, Susan, that I work with. Susan had fixed me up with a football dad on her son’s team. She had assured me he was a great guy, had been divorced a while and was really involved with his kids (all 4-yikes!). It sounded good, so after waiting for 2 weeks for him to call me, we agreed to meet for coffee at a local Starbuck’s. I hadn’t been on a date in a while, so I tried to figure out what to wear that said “I look nice” but not in a too slutty, too stuffy, too teacher-ish or too much thought kind of way. Guys, this is why when we go get dressed we stand there for 20 minutes or so looking catatonic, then throw on and off outfits in a flurry of flying shirts, pants and skirts for another ten minutes until what we see in the mirror somewhat matches the look we are going for. You, on the other hand, can mow the yard until ten minutes before you are supposed to leave, jump in the shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a shirt and look great. We kind of hate you for that.
My mom is hitting her creative stride right now. She is taking four classes, Spanish, Art 101, Mahjong, and Alternative Healing. I am always amazed at how she continues to grow and change as she has gotten older and it is nice to see her doing things for herself. She spent many years chasing after 3 wild children, a traveling husband and various pets without a moment’s rest. It is well deserved!
My little purple ipod shuffle quit working a few weeks ago. It, along with Archie, is often my companion as I walk and I love the mix of all my favorite songs to push my butt up what the kids in the neighborhood call “space mountain” (which roughly equates it to the incline of the Himalayas). Anyway, I finally remembered to throw it in my purse and I off I went to the Apple store in the mall to find out what the damage would be to bring it back to life.
They live in my house. I have read the Maurice Sendak book, “Where the Wild Things Are” to both my boys. On days when they were a little crazy (which was basically every day except the week before Christmas when they would almost explode from trying so hard to be good), I would often tell them, “knock off the wild rumpus!”. So when I heard that a movie was being made, I wondered how they were going to take a little over 300 perfect words and make it into a full length feature without ruining the heart of the book. Then I heard that Spike Jonze was directing, and I was a little concerned. He made the “Buddy Holly” Wheezer video (love it!) as well as directing “Being John Malkovich” (didn’t understand it!), so I was hoping for the best.