Probably just my spirit is hungry. And I should probably feed it.
And then there are people who bathe in their perfume. I am not a fan of that method of application. Perfume should be subtle. I shouldn’t be able to smell you unless I am very close to you. The receptionist at my workplace, for instance, smells really good, but only from a distance. And that’s about all that I like about her.
On the flip side, a bad smell, particularly bad breath, is one of the worst things for me to have to endure. My nose is pretty sensitive. I could never be in a relationship with someone whose smell I found offensive.
I guess the first person I ever loved was my mother. With your family, you tend to take the good with the bad, so when they smell badly you excuse it as temporary. I still like the way my mother smells. I will always recognize it. The first of my peers that I ever became very attached to was my first (well, almost first) college roommate. I remember she had a kind of perfumey and hairspray sort of smell. It wasn’t my favorite, but I loved her anyway. Then there was my apartment neighbor, whose smell I always associate with hand soap and Biolage shampoo. It was bliss to get my nose into her plentiful head of hair. My Mexican roommate's is the smell I miss the most, I think. Hers was Eternity perfume. I have since caught snatches of it and the scent takes me back in an instant, but no one and no bottle quite smells the way she did. A--- just smelled clean, like laundry soap and dryer sheets. I can’t keep those memories in a bottle because laundry smell is upon me too often. Amy, however, still smells like Gain dryer sheets, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to use Gain in my own laundry because I want that smell to stay hers. And then of course there’s MJ, whose memory is most recent in my mind, who smelled like Bath & Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar. I cannot walk into one of those stores and sniff it. It’s still too much for me. I would make myself close to her and soak it up, if I could.
Speaking of MJ, she came to church with her sister on Sunday, and since their parents were out of town, they sat with us, which I welcomed, as did my nieces. She is still a favorite, even if she made me a preference. She sat next to me during the meeting, with her sister on the other side of her, and I have to admit I didn’t hear a whole lot of what was coming from the pulpit. We whispered, probably too much, and I was very aware of the touch of her arm against mine. She has such nice skin.
Awesome, right?
Speaking of favorite music videos, here's another one I like to watch again and again.
There was a group of four middle-aged women, dressed typically, as if to go shopping, not to walk for fitness. They were roaming among the gravestones as if taking a tour. One acted as spokeswoman. I imagined that she was directing the others as to which stones needed repair or improvement. But I had my music on in my ears. I had no idea what they were doing.
There was one girl who was sitting on the grass in front of a fresh grave. She appeared to be writing in a notebook. There were masses of flower arrangements on the area, as if the funeral had happened that day. Kind of sad.
Another girl passed me running. She had a long, blonde ponytail and was wearing a tee-shirt and running shoes, but knee-length cargo shorts—like the kind you wear hiking. It seemed funny to me. She was a bit heavy in the hips and was running slowly. She had sort of an athletic gait, like she might have been more tomboy than girl. As she turned the corner in the road, she took occasion to look back at me. It made me smile. I silently urged her on because she seemed to be struggling, and as fast as I was walking I wondered if I would catch up to her if she slowed to a walk, but I lost track of her after a while. It would be kind of funny if she read my blog and recognized herself here. ;)
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