Of That Fragrance

Warning: Out of character mushy post follows.

I don’t know if it happens with everyone or only with me, but I tend to make very strong memories revolving around certain smells and fragrances. And then years later, all I need to do is get a whiff of a certain perfume and I find myself galloping down memory lane at full speed.

Today it was Axe Click. An almost empty can of the deodorant was found and one sniff almost brought tears to my eyes. And no, I’m not this weepy usually - must be all the hormones. Anyhoo. This scent brings back memories of when the Fellow and I were dating (and he wore it all the time). And even though it wasn’t that back in the past, there is a certain nostalgia attached to it. A certain combination of feelings and emotions that come rushing back, making it seem like just yesterday when we were wondering about our future, whether we would even get one together and what it would hold for us. And so the deo doesn’t remind me only of the good times. It also reminds me of all those times when things were bumpy and a tight hug was the only thing that felt right with the world – a hug that brought me closer to that scent and a feeling of being safe somehow.

A feeling I always associate with the Fellow. And with this scent.

Older Yes. Wiser?

And so ends another birthday celebration. Another year gone by and all I have to show for the whole of last year are a fat bunch of airline and railway tickets, lots of time spent with the family, a death, a wedding and an engagement, a handful of blog posts, a new hobby in paper quilling, several dozen (pretty good) photographs of butterflies and grasshoppers, a business venture in its early stages when it should have been up and about by now, several books ticked off the to-read list, half a dozen successful baking experiences and recipes, more time spent on Twitter, a greener and more colourful garden, 3 added kilos in all the wrong places, a couple of new scars, lots of new clothes, thousands of photographs yet to be sorted, an increased obsession with FabIndia, more confidence (and road rage) when it comes to driving, a lot of homesickness, a laptop in desperate need of formatting and some TLC, 27 newly planted trees, loads of leftover chocolate cake in the fridge, a stack of new presents and the Fellow who still likes and wants to be married to me.

Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad year after all. I wonder if I get wiser in the next.

Where I'm Not Complaining For a Change

Yes. I'm happy and not whining. The Fellow is back and all's right with the world.

And to think he almost didn't make it back today thanks to an ugly, black, rain saturated cloud hovering right above the city. After he told me how close it had been (a mere 5 mins would have had a super grumpy me venting here instead) i realised how close i had been to murder. First the Fellow's boss and then maybe the rest of the chaps who managed to beat the bad weather home.

But for now, i'm at peace with everyone. Even the non-stop rain that flooded my garden and probably drowned to death my new plants.

Tomorrow is a new day though. I'm sure the high will be replaced by my usual, familiar, crankiness.

Of Anticipation

The Fellow has been away for three weeks now. Originally I was to join him a couple of days later and spend most of the 3 weeks seeing a new place and meeting some old acquaintances. But as such things go, a lack of acceptable accommodation led to a cancellation (twice) and I had to resign myself to the fact that I was stuck at home alone.

Which was not such a bad thing except that I don’t think I’ve eaten a full (or remotely healthy) meal here (and have had to attend some tea parties). The only time I got fed properly in all this time was when I crashed at my aunt’s house for a couple of days. And even then I missed my broadband connection and television too much to continue there despite the lure of the food!

And so I waited. For the Fellow to return and for me to have some semblance of a routine once again (a pleasant prospect even with cooking I would have to do). He was to come back home yesterday morning – an arrival much planned for and definitely looked forward to. The wives of the other chaps who had also been away decided we should go armed with a cake to the workplace and welcome the husbands back with pomp. I decided (at a personal level) to get the house cleaned and the refrigerator stocked once again. There were several other plans made, including some movies, drives and weekend getaways.

Unfortunately, the universe has a way of sensing anticipation. And it sneaks in with a sharp, near invisible needle to burst the happy, shining balloon. At first it had been not enough rooms to accommodate everyone. Yesterday morning the needle was in the form of a thunderstorm that lasted several hours and felled at least a hundred trees. And so the Fellow couldn’t come back.

Today, I’m still waiting. But not an ounce of anticipation. Not this time.

Someone Get Me the Mad Hatter

I’m in my own personal hell. The Fellow has been away for nearly three weeks, the maid was first on holiday and then promptly contracted conjunctivitis a day after she came back (late mind you), the car seems to be missing the Fellow even more than me and so has decided to trouble me (the power locking stopped working, and now the driver’s door wont unlock with the key even). And to top it all, the other wives here (instead of spending quality time with their children and homes) insist on subjecting me to the biggest waste of time ever devised in the modern world – tea parties.

Seriously. Tea parties belong to the 19^th century when there was no internet or television or anything remotely more interesting than hooped skirts and needlepoint to keep the female population occupied. I definitely don’t need them here right now. I mean, the two odd hours I spend making forced small talk and smiling like I care could be spent so much more productively in front of my computer or even catching up on sleep.

Instead, I have to sit listening to the same bunch of women discussing the same things they discuss at every party, reacting the same way they do about the things they discuss (fake laughter, smile not reaching eyes, self-satisfied smug looks etc) and annoying me in pretty much the exact same way. Oh and the lack of intelligent conversation is beyond unbelievable, making me shudder non-stop in an ice-cube dropped down my shirt kind of way.

And instead of getting up and giving my emotions a very vocal expression, all I can do is imagine a rabbit hole appearing next to my chair. At least the tea parties there will be more fun right?