The Scent of a Woman

As I've mentioned before, I have a very sensitive sniffer.

I'm guessing that's why I'm not much of a perfume wearer; and why my idea of hell is a Yankee Candle store.

And yet, I find myself in love with a fragrance. To the point where I even bought a hippie dippy diffuser thingy with bamboo reeds in the hope that my house will be.... infused.

A few days ago I would have mocked the diffuser. Today, I am sizing up various vessels in my home, assessing whether they could serve as auxiliary bamboo reed holders. I simply can't get enough of this smell!

It's called Mandarin Coriander. It's somewhat reminiscent of Calyx (the Prescriptives perfume) but fresher and less aggressive-- and without the negative association of my nutso college roommate who practically bathed in that stuff.

There's the Rub

After months of dealing with the fallout of Hurricane Irene vs. the water table; the aftermath of the freak October snowstorm vs. our trees; and the repercussions of living nowhere near the town sewer line, we are finally, finally, ready to put our house (back) on the market.

Well... maybe "ready" is not the right word. I don't know that we'll ever feel completely ready.  There is always some project to be undertaken or improvement or touch up to be made.  But at some point you just have to stop and be satisfied that you've done the best you can.  Because, really, is that tiny nail hole in the molding going to turn off an otherwise interested buyer?  Is it?!  Should I patch and paint it?!  Sigh.

Back in the days of yore, when I was a young associate forced to sit through agonizingly dull drafting sessions at the printer, there would come a time (usually in the early pre-dawn hours) when the senior partners would say "pencils down,"* meaning: no more back and forth over nonsense, no more changes, the deal is done. 

So I guess the time has come for us to put our pencils down. 

Except... on a whim today I picked up a Magic Eraser.  I know I am super-late to this party but WOW!  It really is magic.  Scuffs on the walls?  Gone.  Mark on the ceiling from an ill-chosen fly swatter?  Gone.  Errant marker lines on the door frame near the craft table? Yup, gone.  Amazing. 

   
Don't think I wasn't tempted to rub that thing on my under-eye circles.


*   Ack! Pencils! I' m dating myself.  It's like when I say Walkman instead of iPod.  Back then we would also fax people things.  And for a while there we even worked in MS-DOS.  "Boy, the way Glenn Miller played....."

New Feature: Free Plugs (Products We Love)

Thursday morning at about 8:30 the phone rang. Calls that come in before the school bus are never welcome. Not just because they threaten to throw off the timing of our morning routine but also because they generally bring unwelcome news: neighbor emergencies, cancelled play dates, snow days, etc.

This call was no exception. It was my hair salon calling to let me know that my colorist was sick and would have to cancel my appointment that day. And the first availability that would work for me was in one week. Ack!

Princess problems, right? Perhaps, but the fact of the matter is that, as of Thursday morning, I was already a week overdue to get my roots done. Yikes. Is that a calico cat on your head? No, just my roots. Another week was not going to be pretty. And you can't wear a hat all the time (I'm talking to you, Gavin DeGraw).

Enter Sephora. That's what I did. I told the saleswoman there my tale of (hair) woe and she introduced me to my new favorite product: Rita Hazan Root Concealer.


I was skeptical but desperate. The Sephora lady sprayed this stuff on my rooots to test the color and PRESTO! It looked like I had just walked out of the salon. Truly unbelievable.


My husband, aghast to see me spraypainting my hair, made me promise that I wouldn't lean on Rita in lieu of actually getting my roots done. And I won't. But I will surely be keeping a bottle in the house. (Or two. Shhh...!)