The Smell of Summer and Bitten Flesh

 

My favorite smell that I have come to associate with summer is the aroma of burning OFF! mosquito coils. That's right: don't give me the sweet aroma of coconut tinged sunblock, ocean breezes and sandy beaches, fresh cut grass, campfires, lemonade, or wild flowers. Give me some citronella or good ol' fashioned DEET. 

The OFF! coils have been around for years, but last summer I discovered the metal portable coil holders. They come in a pack of two and, based on the product description and online pictures, the intention is for campers to place one coil in a holder and then hang it from their tent or nearby their outdoor area to help repel mosquitoes. 

But not me. I like to crack the holders in half and place a coil on each half so that I have four coils burning simultaneously. I place them around my patio chair as if I'm in the middle of a zisurrú holding a glass of wine, trying to ward off mosquitoes instead of evil spirits.

My mosquito coil circles don't seem to be working, however. This past week, I've sat outside almost every night with my ring of protection and yet my legs still contain swollen bug bites where I have scratched my legs raw. Tonight I discovered I have a mosquito bite on my right cheek. 

So I take this as a sign. Not that I need to start spraying myself physically with bug spray or to spend more time indoors until the bugs have died for the summer season. No, this is a sign that I need to buy more metal mosquito holders so that I can expand my magic circle to eight burning coils...

Zzzzzzz

 When I can't sleep, I don't count sheep. I used to start counting backwards starting at 100. I would visualize each of the numbers behind my closed eyes, using my eyes to trace the numbers behind my eyelids. I picture the numbers in fuchsia, which might not be the most relaxing color; however, it typically works. By the time I reach the 30s, I'm usually asleep.

Recently, though, it hasn't been working. I think it might be because this internal stress that I have been feeling the last few months has continued to increase. I've always been a terrible sleeper, so it's not surprising that it's gotten worse. Before the pandemic, I had prescription strength sleeping pills to help me on the nights that I was truly struggling. But then my prescription and the sleeping pills ran out, my insurance changed with getting married, and I was too lazy to find a new doctor and renew the prescription.

Instead, I've started writing blogs in my head while I lie in bed. Words bouncing around in my head, ricocheting around like it's a game of pong. I swear the topics are interesting and it's so well composed that you all would be enthralled. I tell myself that I need to get up and write it down so that I don't forget, but then that's the moment that sleep overtakes me. I can't even remember the topic the next day but, I swear, it's riveting. So, basically, if anyone wants to volunteer to be my scribe at about 10:43 p.m. tonight, give me a call so that I can mutter my most brilliant blog yet to you.

Life's Too Short for Crappy Pens

 

I'm a pen snob. I recognize this about myself and know that it makes me difficult to live and work with. My office had the best gel pens: black or blue ink, 10mm, soft plastic outside. But, since the pandemic started, I've been working from home for the last 13 months and my pens ran out of ink. I was faced with the torturous chore of going to Target and sifting through dozens of different brands of disposable gel pens and ink lines. I couldn't remember what the office had, so it took me trial and error of so many pen packs it's embarrassing. But then I found it: the perfect pen. My new preferred favorite is the Pilot G-2 Premium Gel 10 mm, black ink. I originally purchased the 5 mm and then the 7 mm, but the point was too fine and it made me angry. That's right: too fine of a gel ink brought me rage. 

My dentist office kept giving me retractable ball point pens. I guess because of COVID-19 it was cheaper for them to just give the pens to patients as opposed to try and sterilize them between uses. I had three or four of them in my purse; every time I pulled out one of Dr. Mingos' pens, I immediately groaned and searched for one of the gel pens that I knew I had buried somewhere in the purse. At first, I tried to sneak the inferior pens -- Dr. Mingos', the 5 and 7 mm gel pens, or other ball point pens that did not fit my standards -- into our junk drawer. My husband appears to be less discerning when it comes to his pen use, so I thought it was a mediocre solution: I could get rid of the pens without throwing them away. Inevitably, though, every time I opened the junk drawer to use one of the 10mm pens I had placed there for my sole use, I pulled out one of those other unsuitable pens. It was like the pen gods were taunting  me. It then occurred to me that life is too short to use a terrible pen, that the satisfaction that I get from that smooth gel line is one moment of brief happiness that I get everyday. So I threw out all the pens that I couldn't tolerate. Let's just say that I Marie Kondo'd the pens in our household. 

Snow Tail

 Today it snowed. 

April 20, and it snowed. Yesterday, it was almost 60 degrees. Today it snowed. Sunday is going to be in the 70s. Missouri weather is so unpredictable, so indecisive, so fickle that it makes me want to curl in the fetal position until we get one of those very few mild days, where the sun comes out and it's a pleasant 65 degrees with a slight breeze. Ahhhh...I can almost feel the warmth of the sun from past springtimes. 

Today it snowed, and Olive watched the snowflakes, completely mesmerized. This little seven-pound cat who is so full of energy that it's exhausting, sat perfectly still for a few long minutes, intrigued by what she was seeing. It wasn't her first snowfall - she's seen a few snow flurries in December -- but it's been a while. Olive sat so still, slowly batting her eyes at the white fluff falling down as if she was trying to befriend it. Meanwhile, I sat next to her on the chaise lounge, frustrated by a meeting that had just ended. Her tilted face, just enjoying that moment from her kitty perspective, made me take a deep breath and look out the window, a reminder that that type of frustration is unnecessary. It was a good reflective moment that I needed. 

Then Olive proceeded to try to bat the snowflakes through the window, and shortly after jumped onto the back of the chaise, where she perched in the meatloaf position. Her tailed wrapped around the side of my face, and she proceeded to methodically swat her tail on my cheek for the next 15 minutes. I like to think it was her way of literally drilling home the importance of taking a moment to breath.  

Why, Hello Again

It's obviously been a hot minute since I last posted anything here (or closer to 657,000 minutes). 2020 was...a year. It started out promising, and then craziness ensued. For me, overall, it was a pretty amazing year, but saying that aloud today typically results in people reacting like you've just admitted to being patient zero in all this.

So. I consider this post to be my obligatory acknowledgement of the gap year in my blog. I won't attempt to summarize 15 months of absence - even my eyes are glazing over with what that read might look like. But, I will tell you this: 2020 allowed me to achieve my reading challenge by completing 41 of my 40 books goal. So, take that, all you 2020 haters. I'm getting crazy in 2021 and upping my reading goal to 41 books. I'm currently six books ahead of schedule. I know everyone is on edge wondering whether I'll make the goal this year. 

So here's to the next post happening before July 2022. And hopefully being more entertaining or insightful or grammatically correct.