The Sweet Smell of Embrocation

A couple of weeks ago, I was thinking of writing about the sweet smell. Well, rather, that the sweet smell had become not sweet at all. For those of you non-cyclists who may happen to read this and wonder what embrocation is - think of the act of using Icy-Hot or similar substance to rub into sore muscles. But in cold weather prior to a ride, some cyclists slather on designer concoctions of the stuff like a schmear on a New York City bagel.

Velo-dude is one such cyclist. And whatever concoction he had been using of late this winter, the smell was over the top. It clung to the air in my house for hours after he departed for a ride. It found its way to areas of my house he hadn't been in. It was a nostril-burning sensation that seemed to permeate my entire head, even making its way to my taste buds. And I had just about had enough. As in, about ready to sneak into his closet, find the offending item, and confiscate. But this morning, I was pleasantly surprised. I think he got some new stuff. Not bad. When he came down to give me a kiss goodbye, I prepared to hold my breath, but I realized it wasn't necessary. Instead of the pungent odor taking control of all my senses, I got a subtle whiff of something faintly familiar and not too terribly unpleasant. Hmm. I was even able to kiss him back. He went on his merry way, and about 10 minutes later I headed upstairs to collect some laundry. As I passed the bathroom, I thought "wow, did he clean the toilets before he left? How sweet!" I kept walking, then realized what an utterly preposterous thought that was (he's great at picking up, vacuuming, and doing dishes. I don't believe he has EVER cleaned a bathroom since we married 21 years ago). Then I stopped to wonder why I had even had such a thought. And I realized, the new embrocation cream smells EXACTLY like Lysol toilet bowl cleaner (my brand of choice, only because that's what they carry at Costco with occasional coupons that I can't pass up). So, it smelled faintly familiar (only faintly because that's the kind of housekeeper I am). Still lingers in the house for a while after he leaves. But not totally offensive, and I can pretend I have clean bathrooms if only for a while. Good stuff that is. Must go sneak through the closet and find the brand. Perhaps he'll get a stash for Valentine's day tomorrow. Because that's the kind of romance we like to keep alive in this house.

Calling all racoons of WyCo...

Attention fellow racoons! Word on the street is that Mathgeek is preparing for her annual visit to Camp Naish. Mathgeek, you know, the woman who hates our kind. Who is so easily spooked it's like stealing candy from a baby to get her going (or, in our case, more like stealing candy from a sleeping camper). Last year she was at Naish for two nights for Webelos camp. For those of you new to the area, we got her good. The first night, we had 10-20 of us swarm her campsite as soon as they called for lights out. The scouts were all in their tents, but many of the adults were out in camp chairs chatting for a while. By casually walking past them, nearly brushing their legs as we went, we got more than just mathgeek a little spooked. Then, just rustling around in the wooded area right outside her tent all night assured that she wouldn't sleep a wink all night when she finally did go to bed. The next night she was so jumpy she ended up sleeping in a minivan. THAT was awesome, folks! Thanks for all of your hard work in orchestrating this manuever.

So, this weekend she is only here for one night, with her younger scout. This is a night you won't want to miss. It's also a night we need to get right the first time, since we won't have another crack at her for quite a while. I am calling a planning meeting on Thursday night, right after sundown, to map out our strategy for assuring that she'll be sleepless for weeks. Any and all racoons in western Wyandotte County are welcome. Not sure yet which campsite she'll sleep at, so we'll be assigning teams to the different campsites to make sure we're covered.

Also remember that our friends on the other side of the state line were kind to her in June. From what I hear, they were so tame that they waited til the wee hours to hit the campsite, and then rooted around in the trash and promptly left. No terrorizing, no ballsy close encounters. For shame. Let's show those Missouri 'coons how it's done! LET'S DO THIS!

Sometimes it's okay...

to judge a book by its cover. Or, more to the point, a wine by its bottle. I bought this beauty a few months ago, and actually said out loud as I picked it out that it was okay if it wasn't great, because I absolutely loved the bottle. I can be superficial that way. In this case, it wasn't a bad choice. Pretty light and tasty summer wine, as long as it's drunk very cold. Now I need to decide what to do with my beautiful bottle.

Pinky went on another scout campout this weekend. Boating, with tubing, plus a sailboat lesson. Had a great time - he has never had a chance to do anything like this before. I was with a mom friend yesterday whose son had called her that morning from the camping trip, just because he missed her. Would Pinky ever do that? Heck no, not unless something were seriously wrong. Part of me was envious, but the more rational part recognizes it's a good thing that he goes and has such a great time that he doesn't miss us. He still wants to come home and have a quick snuggle and tell us all about it. That part I don't want to change. Ever.

Meanwhile Curly and I had a nice weekend together, while velodude racked up some miles on the bicycle. Cub scouts had a great visit to a WWII air museum, very hands on, boys even got to get up and move some of the controls in one of the planes. Later yesterday, I asked him to pick out a board game he wanted to play, and he chose one that we had brought home from my father's house last summer. The Magnificent Race. It never became a classic, but I have fond memories of playing it with my folks. It's mostly luck, not strategy, which is good for Curly at this point, because he beat the living daylights out of me without my having to throw it, which I really don't like to do unless he's really feeling low. He was so excited about the game that he forced Pinky to play tonight, in his sleep-deprived delirium. Pinky won, but happily, Curly was not frustrated by this. It's so nice when they get along.

In other news -the stuff that is consuming us right now (emotionally & monetarily?)- the drywallers should be done sanding our family room on Tuesday. Then we get to clean up the mess, prime & paint, and lay a new floor, which we purchased on Saturday, ka-ching! All because of a stupid flood caused by the city's inadequate rain runoff ditch system adjacent to our backyard. Ah yes, my other new hobby, pestering the city every time it rains. Confused? Velodude's been blogging about it, but the beginning of the saga goes way back to mid June.

Gypsy Girl

I love it when kids get the words of songs wrong. Especially when they're as old as Pinky, because then they're really embarassed when they find out the correct words. I wish I had written some of the other ones down in the past year or so. Tonight as we cooked dinner, he was singing softly to himself, and then it got a little louder... "Don't you know that she's a gypsy girl..." It took me a minute to realize that he was attempting to sing "Jesse's Girl", that classic (ugh) Rick Springfield song from the 80's. He was mortified when I gave him the correct lyrics. And then I was mortified that I KNEW the correct lyrics. Ah, Rick Springfield...that takes me back just a few years, to a sort of double date with velodude, laggin, and her (now) hubby car-man. Alcohol was involved, and we wound up at velodude's apartment going through his music, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Ended up in an album toss onto 16th St. in Lincoln, and I'm quite sure that Mr. Springfield's album was the first to go, with good reason. Good times.

No hotdogs were killed in the making of the rainy camp weekend, but Curly still pronounced that we both smelled like hot dogs when we got home. After my long-awaited shower, I went for some snuggle time with him and I got the quote above.

The weekend really went pretty well. Got to the campsite around 10 pm, it was not raining but had been earlier, pretty wet. Helped set up scout camp, then pitched my tent and made sure Pinky's group had their's pitched as well. Late to bed but didn't help my attempt at sleep, as I mostly listened to rain hit the tent. Saturday morning after breakfast, we got the word that MO Water Patrol had closed the river. Lots of rain in the past week, river was very high and very fast. The boys had been warned there was a chance of this, and they took it really well. We gave them option of going to town, visiting a fish hatchery and some other things, but they opted to stay at the camp area. I inwardly groaned at the thought of hanging out there with no planned acitivites for an entire day, but in the end it was fine. They had a big project on a hill by camp diverting a mini-creek to an area away from our tents, they hunted for crawdads in a bigger creek and out by the river, some of them swam in frigid ponds of overflow area, and late in the afternoon we convinced the campsite to let us use one canoe in the same area to show the first year scouts some canoe techniques. That's Pinky practicing his skills with one of the other dads. Notice the road leading into the pond, and the sign on the tree warns of flash floods. Yeah, the river was a little high. I did get wet this weekend, but not in the way I was dreading. While my selfish side was a little relieved, I have to say I wish for the boys' sake they'd been able to go out on the river. However, they managed to have a blast just being boys, getting wet and muddy, running wild. It was kind of cool to sit back and watch. Had a good time getting to know the adults a little better as well. Saturday night it poured, sometimes torrential. Tent held up, stayed pretty dry. Packed it up and headed home today.



Exhaustion is setting in, off to bed.

I'll be getting wet

Headed for a canoe trip this weekend. With Pinky and the Boy Scouts. (yes, scoutsuck has continued from cub to boy scouts). It's cool and rainy all week. I haven't been canoeing since high school at best. What in sam hell was I thinking? I asked 3 people separately if they thought I'd wind up in the water. All three said yes without hesitation. Then I find out I'm supposed to avoid going under the trees, because otherwise I'll end up with snakes in my canoe. Egads, can it get worse? Velodude gets to stay home with Curly. He might be disappointed that it will put a damper on his riding plans, but I'm sure he's got the better end of the deal.

I haven't written in ages. I wanted to write about Mexico, but time got away from me. I did love it. I want to go back. We all want to go back. Even velodude, whose fragile stomach didn't fare as well as the rest of ours while we were there.

Pinky wants a girlfriend. He has a crush. Today, said crush was quizzing him on who he likes right now. He called it "the worst thing ever". Then he wanted to borrow my cell phone to text her the answer tonight (he had told her he would). Ha! Not on my phone. We talked about the possible outcomes of this action, had I been the kind of mom to let him do it. The "no taking it back". The 2 possible outcomes. Was he ready for that? And, turns out he thinks he is not ready for that. Oh, the drama of 5th grade. I am just thankful that he comes home and talks about it.

That's all for now.

Mmmmm

This could be my undoing. My big vice. My crack cocaine. Okay, never done crack and never will, but in terms of highly addictive substances, this is it for me right now. Velo-dude came home from 'cross nats raving about it in December. One of his cycling buddies had returned from Belgium with a supply for everyone to try at the house they stayed at. A spread that tastes like graham crackers, he said. Friend went back to Belgium for 'cross worlds in January, and came back with an entire jar for velo-dude, his very own. Well, his very own, until he let mathgeek try it. I am in love. Velo-dude, please get it out of my sight. Every time I'm near the kitchen, I hear it calling me. Begging me to take another little scoop. And another. And another...

Speculoos is apparently a yummy little wafer-like spice cookie that's popular over there, and someone had the genius idea to take it and turn it into a buttery spread. And I can't even read the label to know how bad it is for me. How perfect is that? I am tempted to try to figure out how to get my hands on more, but I am going to try to resist the urge. But the crack, it is powerful stuff, I hear.