valentina

Everyone's talking about clothing now, and I do love to talk clothes. Maybe Mister likes the color of the sweater on you? Maybe he likes how it makes you look snug and warm and he wants to crawl up under the sweater with you? Actually, it sounds like a very classic look, and maybe Mister likes a classic, uncluttered look, something I always associate with J. Crew. I always think of Eddie Bauer as the source for more reasonably-priced classic clothing when you don't want to pay the J. Crew prices, which I find absolutely insane.

I was out trying to buy a pair of black tights yesterday and couldn't find them where I was shopping (sold out, I guess), so I bought a pair of black fishnet tights. Practical, huh? No, she never did believe in having the big wedding with the while lace gown, but by god, let's get fishnet stockings because they're there. I think I might wear them tomorrow. I have this retro-style black skirt that begs for a pair of fishnets. Everything else will be black and white and muted, and the fishnets will be the wee little touch. Well, probably more than a wee little touch, maybe a serious jab in the ribs, but who cares... I'm a fiscal analyst, for hell's sake, no one expects it. It messes them up. You know, people ask me to go to lunch with them (as did the lobbyist a couple of weeks ago), and I really don't like to go to lunch with other people. It's one of my least-favorite things to do on my lunch hour. I would so prefer to go to my nice little bohemian coffeehouse hang-out and get an hour of quiet time before I re-enter the fray. My inner introvert needs to be cared and nurtured, especially when my workplace is a zoo. I know going to lunch is "networking," but gah, most of the time it's just bullshitting while you feed your face. It wears me out. I suppose if I didn't wear fishnet stockings, people might not be so inclined to try to figure out what the hell I was all about, but I can't let go of all of my personality for the sake of being left alone. I told someone not that long ago that I'd probably dress like a churchmouse this year during the session, and I guess I lied. Actually, I was being a bit sardonic when I said that, but I think they believed me. And why is it, when the legislative session starts, several of my close acquaintances get needy? As in, really needy? I won't bore you with the stories, but it happens EVERY damn year -- the session starts and they start calling me or emailing me a lot or even stopping in my office to see if I have time to listen to godknowswhat. And it always starts with "I know you're busy, but..." The "but" should be followed with "I WANT ATTENTION! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!" It's not -- it's followed with whatever semi-crisis or love affair they want to tell me about in utmost detail. Gracious. My friend and coworker Scott suggested I hang up a sign that says: "I AM NOT the wailing wall." I am not a callous bitch. If it were a bona fide emergency or major life event, I'm there for people. But their annual job review that always goes well, or the new girlfriend, or generally noodling around about your philosophy of life are not emergencies. In a total non sequitur, I had a dream Sunday morning that I'd given birth to a baby but I'd forgotten about it and gone off to a marching band rehearsal. Then I remembered: George Clooney was the dad! I'd go over to the dream interpretation thread on the forum and ask them what they hell they thought that meant, but I think I'd be booed off!

Yea! Two other people who value their lunch-hour solitude! The way that I pull off wearing fishnets to work is to wear them with a long skirt and boots. You don't get a big gander at the fishnets, and most people are so unobservant that they really don't notice.

I love the new name of your blog! Hee! I love mermaids. I'm probaby more of a dryad, but I always wanted to be a mermaid. Have you ever seen the movie "The Secret of Roan Inish?" Love that movie. But I digress. Your collection of transcendent moment memories now has me thinking about mine. It's something for me to journal about on my lunch hour, I think. I have one particular instance that instantly comes to mind, and it was when I alone except for what seemed like thousands of fireflies, floating up out of the grass at night. But you've given me a lot of fodder for thought, and for my journal. Thank you so much, for I was in a bit of rut with my retro noon hour process of writing in a journal with a pen.

Hee! My dad used to tell me he'd happily hold the ladder for me when I crawled out the window to elope!

OH YOU GUYS! My guess would be that you're all perfectly gorgeous. You all smell wonderful. You have your own distinct styles and express yourselves, and that's what's wonderful and terribly appealing. Besides, you are all younger than me, I have to work it a lot harder! darkity, I can't grow my nails long to save my soul, especially in the wintertime. The cold here is very hard on fingernails. I envy long nails, they are so elegant. And the cold weather makes me all about putting shea butter on my skin. My bathroom counter is stacked high with shea butters, creams, puddings and whips. Otherwise I would dry up like a prune and blow away!

And now a missive from the other side of my personality: I decided today, because I was wearing my fuchsia and purple zebra print panties, that the other people in my office should get newer and better underwear. Why, you ask? Because they're all into some form of mass hysteria as their presentations draw near, and I find their tension to be relatively counterproductive, since if you walk in the room nervous and insecure, you only hurt yourself. But if they had better underwear, they would value it and love it and not want to get their panties (or knickers) in such a big, giant knot. OK, bad joke. I was somewhat resigned to having a bad experience when I walked in the room, and low expectations are sometimes a blessing. I came into work on Sunday to prepare for the presentation. I can appreciate their anxiety, but I don't appreciate them being in my face all day about how scared they are. My bosses really got into their heads in a big way. But life is good when you can come home, drink a glass of wine, eat some pasta with smoked salmon flaked over the top (with olive oil, garlic and good parmesan), freshly-made French bread (a great new bakery close to my house!) and then drink a cup of really great coffee afterwards. And to make it better yet, you have fuchsia and purple zebra print panties covering your bum. What else is there? Well, plenty. I want many, many things that I can't have or I won't get, but if I truly get my knickers in a big, huge knot, it should be over something really fun. Gotta remember that one!!!

Ordered them from Victoria's Secret. In addition to being rather colorful, they are also exceedingly comfortable. Big sale at the VSC online store -- panty-o-rama!

I'm in relative slacker mode for a few days here at work. Woot! I've been a bit nose-to-the-grindstone for over a month now, and when I hit this point, I can breathe again. In accordance with my relative leisure, and the fact that I'm not going to wear a power suit if I don't have to do a presentation, I'm wearing a long-sleeved, longish black top with a skirt that has a black and brown Indian print, with a few gold sequins scattered about. Even with the sequins, the skirt is rather understated. And I'm wearing my black corset-lace boots. I'm wearing Mme. Moriarty, since my ensemble seemed a bit like a Misfortune Teller outfit. Right before the New Year, and continuing into the month of January, I've been doing a brief Ganesha mantra at the start of my meditation each night. Silently. I'm not into chanting out loud, although I love to listen to chanting. If you aren't into Hindu deities, Ganesha is the elephant-headed man -- Ganesha was the subject of the amazingly beautiful BPTP Lotus Moon t-shirt. Ganesha is the remover of obstacles and the god of new beginnings. He also represents wisdom, learning and humility. I think he's a wonderful creature, whether you believe in him as an actual living, breathing diety or as a symbol that inspires you to use your own wisdom and learning to overcome obstacles (within and outside of yourself) and recognize avenues for auspicious new beginnings. And even then, to retain a sense of humility about the process. An elephant-sized order, but a good one. I suppose my biggest task is to not overthink the entire matter. That probably invokes the humility factor, because I simply can't will things to be so, nor can I control inner guidance. You have to let it happen, you never know when it will arrive, you never know what it will be, but you have to be ready to listen to it. You just never know, and that is the hardest thing of all for me. In comparison, it's a piece of cake for me to walk into a briefing session armed with all sorts of information, because then I am able to say that I know the answer, or I know where to find the answer. To ask, to wait, and to not know about things that are much, much larger is truly humbling. OM Sri Ganeshaya Namah. There are bigger things than this little place where I work.

Yikes! The dreaded SUV spin -- I've seen more SUVs and 4-wheel drive pickups spin and do crazy things on ice, because the drivers assume that their vehicles can't slide or spin. They drive too fast for conditions and then they spin out. I have an all-wheel-drive vehicle, but my previous vehicle was the proverbial "hog on ice" (that term is so odd) and I had to be thinking all the time when I drove on ice or snow so I wouldn't get stuck. Those patterns are imprinted in my brain, so I don't drive my Subaru like a nut, and I've actually had SUV drivers honk at me to go faster through 6 inches of snow because they know I'm effectively in an SUV. Dummies. I'm glad that you didn't get in an accident -- running into an SUV would not have been easy on your car or you! Those near misses are so heart-stopping, and then the fear and relief that sets in right away is terrible. I hope the roads have thawed out today!!!

Glad some of you enjoyed the "big girl panties" comment! And as for the men in my office, my boss tends to prefer to hire men, and he likes his male employees docile. There's a guy in my office who's not that way, is one of the smartest people I've ever met, incredibly good at his job, funny, has a good moral compass, is a bit of a manly man (lifts weights, works on cars), and he's treated like he's a second-rate dumbshit by management. They make fun of him behind his back; never mind that this guy should be running the office instead of the people who are. Male pecking order is kind of a scary thing, IMHO. And I've gotten that "trophy" treatment from certain senators. They like to have everyone seeing me step and fetch for them. It's pathetic. Of course, every now and then I turn it around and get them to consider or present ideas that I have, because if they're going to be that prehistoric, I might as well get them to do something worthwhile. Of course, I get them to think it's all their idea, because if they thought it was my idea, they wouldn't do it. Pathetic, just pathetic. In general, it a lot of dick-banging, and when you get too many together, it's just a drumming session. And I'm betting most of the dicks are really teensy!!!

Jumping on the winter lights bandwagon! Where I live, it never seems to snow in December and then dumps a buttload in January and February, and the lights are always the prettiest with snow on the ground. I always have lights on my front porch, even in the summer. I found some really cute little lights that have little mason jar-style covers on it. Actually, a few years ago, my yoga teacher hung a string of clear lights in her studio at Christmas and she hasn't taken them down since, except when she's replacing one string with another. It gives the entire space a nice feel.

Being as busy as I am at work is a good thing, to a certain extent, but here I am, in at work on Sunday. And what am I doing? Writing in my BPAL blog? ARGH BLARG! Actually, I'm basically finished with what I arrived to do, but I'm considering cleaning off my desk just a bit and then leaving. And what am I doing here on Sunday? I am the lead-off batter in the entire staff presentation process on Tuesday. This happens every year that there's a new and/or difficult committee to work with -- I get to go in first and be raked over the coals. I get to have everyone who doesn't really understand how the process works ask me 50 trillion questions and generally bitch about how they can't find out what's going on. Never mind that they want me to know more than most of the people who run the agencies I'll be talking about. It's the general naive nature of newly-elected legislative officials who think they're going to change the world. There's term limits in my state and almost half the legislature turned over last year, so experienced folks are few and far between. And my boss picks me to twist slowly in the wind, every year. I know it's because I'm somewhat less (externally) sensitive than other people in the office, I don't pout, whine and mince around about thing, I tend to not be as pedantic in my presentations as some of the other staff, and I'm no Angelina Jolie, but I'm probably more into presentation of my entire self than some of the other staff. I also think my boss really gets off on putting me through the mill, so he can tell everyone else how horribly my presentation went. So I'm in trying to prepare as best as possible, but I know I'll get asked a lot of non sequitur questions that I can't answer. I detest this part of my job. Last week one of the fatcat lobbyists came in and asked me to go to lunch with him, I still can't figure out what he wanted, he claimed it was just social in nature. He is fun to talk to and I get a giggle out of his observations. I was getting somewhat disconcerted that he'd take pains to walk behind me and then he confessed that he liked to smell my perfume. And what was I wearing? Snake Oil, of course! You don't go to lunch with a lobbyist and not wear Snake Oil. It may become my signature scent for the session, although the one day that I wore Mme. Moriarty, she got an extreme reaction from someone. Since they're in the same "family," I'm not sure most people can tell them apart. I love them equally. I went a little batshit on the update and ordered way more than I intended. What did I get? Bakeneko, Svadhinaopatika, Vasakasajja, Chintamani-Dhupa and Smut. I know Smut will work, but I already have a bottle-and-a-half of Smut 2006, but how could I not order another bottle? And the others... well, we'll see. They sound lovely. I love Lupercalia, but then my forum name is valentina, after all. I'm going to shovel off my desk. I hope all of you are well, and staying warm if you're somewhere where it's cold.

Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone for the well wishes! I'll survive the briefing, no doubt. I may have to wear the boots, although they will probably be hidden under pants, because it's freaking cold here. I don't think it got above 10 degrees today. I am debating which oil to wear, and it's between Snake Oil or Mme. Moriarty. I'm leaning in the direction of the Madame, since she always makes me really happy.

In the imp, I know that Queen Gertrude is a floral. I'm not a great floral nose, but it did seem rather purple smelling and I suspected violets or lilacs. When it went on my skin, and through drydown, it's a floral fragrance, but not an obnoxiously strong one. My ability to wear florals is very, very limited, but this isn't that bad -- it does have a sweetness of violets, but I think the chrysanthemum is cutting the sweet florals. I would simply love to smell this on someone who could wear florals well, because I think it would be divine -- and I associate violets with spring and mums with late summer, so I think it's a great juxtaposition of scents and seasons.

I received an imp of The High Priest Not To Be Described as a frimp from the Lab. Thank you! In the imp, The High Priest is musky and peppery -- when I first sniffed it, I didn't know the components of the blend and assumed the peppery quality was black musk, since that's how it feels to my nose. But in this case, I think I'm also actually smelling the pepper in the blend. Once on my skin, and through initial drydown, I'm getting the peppery musk, plus leather. This is hot, slick, black leather! Leather is normally a monster on my skin and really blows up, but in The High Priest, it's kept in check rather well. The cypress gives this scent a bit of a woody undertone, but what I really detect under the musk-pepper-leather is the pimento -- it gives a nice little tangy zip that blends in really well with the pepper, but doesn't add heaviness. This is a really masculine scent, and while it smells great on me, it's a little too manly for my taste. However, for women who love those hot, spicy leather scents, or for someone who wants a drop-dead sexy, mysterious, slightly dangerous-smelling scent for their man-thing, THIS IS IT.

Mmmm... l love rice and chicken jook sounds really, really good!

(Of course, when I say "back in the saddle again," Steven Tyler's voice goes through my head...) I don't really hide the fact that I work for a legislature, and today is the first day of the new legislative session. It will run until June. Anyone who reads this page will no doubt hear more about it than you will care to stomach. You will celebrate the end of it as much as I will. However, I'll try to keep a good attitude as long as possible, although I've already started it on a snippy, but personally meaningful note. I was beginning my dressing ritual, which during the session, is a much more conniving process than the rest of the year. I tend to create a bit of an image that serves as an armor. There's a few people, mainly my friends, who see through it, but I can even fool some of my friends. The administrative support staff in the office get intimidated by me during the session, which always dismays and amuses me. Last year's armor was some very nice pant suits, which I will of course continue to wear this year. The new additions to my armor include slightly above-the-knee pencil skirts, to be worn with very simple, long-sleeved tops. I have on such an ensemble today. Along with The Boots. The Boots are a new acquisition, and are black, knee-high faux suede boots, aprox. 3 inch narrow heels, pointy toes, and they have corset-style lacing up the back. From the front, I'm one thing, from the back, I'm another. The lobbyists will notice them, the senators won't. And in honor of the lobbyists re-entering the building in droves, I'm wearing Snake Oil as my fragrance. The choice was between Mme. Moriarty and Snake Oil, and I just didn't want to wear the Misfortune Teller the first day of the session. The Madame can be trotted out the second day. I also have on my new red jasper pendant, which goes with my red jasper ring. I wear the ring all the time. I purchased it in late November because I felt I needed a ring with a red stone to provide some grounding energy. People are very attracted to it, but also a little intimidated by it. So of course, I had to wear the red jasper pendant on the first day to ward off whatever demons may approach. I am only half-kidding. This year I'm feeling very aware of the energy that some of these people (the politicians and the lobbyists) create, and I know what I want to avoid. Today also marks the first day of the rest of my obsession, which is a really long story that I'm not going to tell. (How coy of me, I know.) Suffice it to say that a process of mine in a 12-year obsession is over. It makes me sad, and part of my recent red jasper wearing is to ground myself so I can move beyond that process. I'm not sure the obsession is over, but I know a certain process is over. That's as clear as I'm going to get. But rather than be wistful about the end of something, I'll endeavor to remember that on New Year's Day, it occurred to me (out of the blue, while working out) that we can all grow our own power to whatever level we want, and we need take back seat to no one else's. While I work in a place where supposedly "powerful" people move about, political power is only one sort of power, and I sometimes think a rather pathetic sort of false power. Getting elected to an office is a way that some people use to create their own power, because they're so needy that they don't know how to back off and find the power in their own center. Certainly, there's a few elected officials who aren't that way -- they either ran for office out of a true sense of public service and dignity (rare), or they found something inside of themselves while they were serving. I've seen that happen, and it's always very nice to watch. So let the madness begin, I have my look on and I'm really starting to think that most of them are completely full of shit. But I'll do my very small part to try to contribute something useful to the process. My my heart really isn't in it, not at all.

Episodes of illness-related anosmia are the only time that I will switch away from the bean (as in coffee) and migrate to the leaf (as in tea). Coffee loses its taste when I'm sick, mainly because part of the taste is the smell. I hope that the snarks are feeling better and if not, that the darkityma brews up some industrial-strength healing soup for both of you!!!

Welcome back, welcome back! I wondered where you'd been! I hope the ankle is better and the new job is going well?

Your boy is a real gem, he really is. Not that many men would be that undertstanding. Wow. Being the yogini freak that I am, maybe trying a little Tantric stuff that isn't exactly about intercourse could be nice. Sitting naked, back-to-back, just feeling the other one breathe. Maybe with a big yummy blanket wrapped around the two of you if it's chilly where you're at. It's all very sensual without being sexual. Taking baths or showers together? Always fun. Rubbing lotion on each other's skin, with nothing else in mind? Very sweet, very nice, very trusting, very comfortable. I'm a bit too much of a sensualist for my own good, but there's a few ideas as a springboard for your imagination!

You read all about it, here it is in graphic detail... just the usual goings-on around my house. Ella Bean gets busy on Mugzy: CORNHOLE!!!! I know the photo development folks see it all, but methinks they had to wonder, just a bit. However, it may have been a welcome, if slightly odd, break from all the Christmas photo shoots.

I'm still really busy at work and I seem to take time to comment on blogs but never write in my own, because I seem to thing that I have to write a lot. Why is that? Well, it's not going to happen today... I just want to put up a couple of quotes that are on my page-a-day Zen calendar. The first one puts the Christmas frenzy in perspective: "Our lives are lived in intense and anxious struggle, in a swirl of speed and aggression, in competing, grasping, possessing, and achieving, forever burdening ourselves with extraneous activities and preoccupations." -- Sogyal Rinpoche Actually, that also sounds exactly like my workplace is like when the legislature is in session, and oh oops, that begins January 3. ArGh BlArGh!! The second one is a reminder that you find the sacred in the mundane, and I do love it when Jesus goes Zen on us: "Lift the stone and you will find me; cleave the wood and I am there." -- Jesus

Stories like this always make lyrics from the Marvin Gaye song "Inner City Blues" run through my head -- "Makes me want to holler, throw up both my hands." I don't know what to say, except that I understand your frustration. It is why I simply stopped talking around my family. I react to what they are saying, if I think it's a subject that I can react to politely and briefly, because I guess someone should have some manners, and it might as well be me. I never start conversations or tell them anything about myself (and they don't ever ask because they're too busy talking about themselves or their other favorite subjects), and generally just stay very quiet. It has turned me into a bit of an enigma, although they'd just say I'm weird and remote, but they rarely stop talking long enough to ask me anything about myself. And if they do, they want a one-sentence answer. I'm sure several of them would tell you that I'm remote and uncaring. I probably am, but coping mechanisms are there for a reason. My poor mother, who has macular degeneration (the "wet" kind, by the way -- the layperson term is grosser than the medical term!) and Alzheimer's, always says to me after family gatherings: "I don't think I ever talked to you or heard you talk today!" (Don't get me wrong -- when she was well, with all her faculties, she was the ringleader of the pack.) But my take on your in-laws is that they find you intimindatingly smart and if you're on their turf, they're going do whatever it takes, including being rude in weird and contradictory ways, to keep your intellect off their radar screens as much as possible. Look at it this way, it probably tires them out more than it does you!

When I first sniffed Lycaon, I got a lot of green smells -- the olive leaf and cypress, no doubt. And when I first applied it, the olive and cypress went into full bloom, but after 5 minutes or so, things settled down and started smelling green and powdery -- the powder was the myrrh kicking in, no doubt. This is such a complex blend that after a complete drydown it became difficult to articulate just what I was smelling -- there's certainly the frankincense and myrrh combo in the forefront, but the peppery black musk and hints of the green elements of the scent lurk in the background. It's a scent that's rather masculine, but certainly very nice as a dark and brooding scent for a woman. And I just can't stop smelling it!! It's so complex as to truly defy description, but I do have a rather overwhelming urge to pull out my Warren Zevon CD and sing along with "Werewolves of London..."