July 23, 2011

I really do not like the smell of Citronella.  I got a strong whiff of it and discovered it was emanating from my suitcase.  WT?  I started digging around to locate the source.  Seems my last minute travel idea to pack a small, boxed votive candle wasn’t the brightest.  It melted.  On to my $$ padded, deep plunge, SOMA bra.  Crap.  I was planning to wear this super cute sun dress to dinner with my ex and our neighbor friends.  I needed this bra.  So I yanked out the hotel provided ironing board and iron, stuffed the hard wax shell of the right bra cup with a towel and with about a half a roll of toilet paper began heat blotting.  This particular brand of candle is popular because the scents are very strong.  I really do not like the smell of Citronella.  A while later, the cup had cooled and was no longer firm with wax.  It still stank of Citronella yet was wearable.  I figured maybe my friends would think it my perfume so I was off to dinner.  We enjoyed a lovely dinner al fresco, completely mosquito free.

My Atlanta visit was divine.  And surprisingly, while bittersweet, no tears shed or strong urge to move back.  I got to see my dog Desi and realized my decision to leave her was truly the best.  She is very happy and healthy. Throughout the whole time in Atlanta, I stayed in the moment and enjoyed my wonderful friends. 

Back at mom’s I discovered I could barely get my bedroom door open.  With a line backer shove I completed the break of my collapsed garment rack.  *sigh* If you are a reader of this blog from way back, you know the trials I have experienced with these blooming garment racks. * SIGH* I am now determined to clear out the basement closet and make room for my clothes.  My cursory closet content review identified mom’s Xmas sweaters, shoes, 25 ugly purses, the multicolored bow ties and cummerbunds from my 1987 wedding, dad’s broken trumpet, a fish aquarium, me and sis’s cheerleading outfits (I will not see if it still fits) mom’s college Mouton coat, her late 50’s Aksarben Princess ball gown, a dead mouse and a piece of old toast.  I decided to clear a bit at a time over this coming week.  Anyone want a vintage Mouton coat or ball gown?

Last night was the wedding of my girl-gang’s first child.  We are not old and proved it on the reception dance floor and much later at the 2:00am cannon ball contest at a friend’s pool.