Tag Archives: smells

Otherwise unrelated: the smells of fall, the smell of danger, and cat piss.

18 Nov

One of the things I love about fall are the smells… pumpkin, mulling spices, smokey fires.

So to fully embrace the season, I’ve been doing a lot that involves those smells lately… mulling cider on the stove all afternoon, rubbing a roast down with cinnamon and cloves before baking it, etc. And you know what I’ve noticed?

My place has a weird smell footprint. (I just coined that term. Like it?) For whatever reason, the smell that is created in the kitchen or living room is most vividly detected… in the guest bathroom. What? I’m not running a vent fan or something that would naturally pull the smell in that direction, so it strikes me as odd.

You know what else is odd? That some women report a heightened sense of smell after childbirth. One of my friends from book club was talking about that this week – how more smells now “put her off” since she had a baby four months ago. Someone suggested that it’s a defense mechanism, that new moms have more acute smell so they can “smell danger.” I would say that quantifying the smell of danger seems a bit tough, but we’ve all crossed paths with a pervert who smells like he bathed in Drakar Noir. Definitely the smell of danger.

While my dad has never experienced childbirth (nor will he), his schnoz seems to work overtime as well. Growing up, it was not uncommon for him to pace around the house saying, “I smell cat piss!” and sniffing loudly, while my mom and sister looked at each other like, “What is he talking about?”  and I hustled our cat Chuck into hiding.

Speaking of cat pee, in college one of my boyfriend Brent’s roommate had a cat. One of his other roommates hated that cat and kept arguing to get rid of it – not least because he claimed it was peeing in his sock drawer at night. None of the other roommates had this problem, and Mike took increasingly complicated measures to secure his sock drawer so the cat couldn’t get into it. “I’ll show that f*cking cat…” he mumbled while securing the handles on the drawers with rubberbands.

Alas, one night we were all still up when Mike came home from the bar, went into his room (right off the living room) and passed out. And we were still sitting in the living room 30 minutes later when we heard the unmistakable sound of liquid spraying a sock drawer, so we raced into the room… to find Mike, in a drunken stupor, pissing in his own sock drawer.


A Letter: to the woman next to me in yoga today…

19 Apr

Dear Lady:

(And I use the word “lady” loosely for reasons that will soon become evident.)

If you decide to hit a yoga class, how about you show up on time? Because the idea is to get relaxed and centered. And none of that is possible if a woman who is shaped like Sponge Bob comes to class ten minutes late, walking as if she has bricks strapped to her feet, and then proceeds to roll out her mat RIGHT NEXT TO ME, as if there’s not 200 sf of other real estate available in the room.

Further, if you ARE going to show up late (thereby calling attention to yourself and interrupting the channeling of my loving kindness) to nestle in close to me, then please, for the love of God and small puppies, SHAVE YOUR LEGS. Because the last thing I need to see, when I’m in a supine twist (my legs going one way and my head aimed in your direction) is a Hobbit-like leg, three inches from my face. It makes me want to find a grill lighter and start singeing your shin. Not very zen of me, but neither is your hairy drumstick.

I know, I should be all “I love Earth Mothers” and that – especially since I’m into yoga. But come on. If I can find the time to shave my legs (which are SIGNIFICANTLY less hairy than yours), you should be able to find the time to either a) shave, or b) don a pair of long pants so I don’t have to throw-up in my mouth repeatedly while trying to practice ujjai breathing.

Speaking of ujjai breathing – did you hear the song that was playing when you arrived? I think it was supposed to be “ujjai” that they were chanting, but by the time they mixed in the beats and repeated it quickly, it just sounded like “vaginavaginavagina” to me. Did you think so too? If you agree, I might be willing to cut you a pass on the hairy legs for one more session. I just want to know I wasn’t going crazy there on my mat.

Anyway. I’m sure you’ll be more punctual (and better groomed) next time. (See how yoga makes me more positive?)