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Today's scent is Melpomene: dark cypress with mint, geranium, Bulgar lavender, orange blossom and passion flower.

For something that has flowers and orange blossom, this smells strangely like a cool morning in a temperate forest to me. I think that's the mint and cypress standing out the strongest. The floral notes are oddly subtle in this.

I like it, though. :D

Next order . . .

The Muses: Thaleia: A vivacious, dazzling, merry scent: honey, ylang ylang, apricot, ciste, blood orange and gardenia with earthy, warm tonka.

The Muses: Polyhymnia: Polyhymnia grants fame and glory to writers, brings inspiration and immortality through one’s written work. Orris root, white sage, rowan bark and redsandalwood, with myrrh, rosemary, lemon balm and honeysuckle. [How could I NOT want this one?]

The Muses: Clio: Her scent is the warm, dry parchment of scrolls, lavender for critical thought and analysis, the solidity of heavy woods, ornery patchouli and glib benzoin, and superstar-splashed orange and amber.

The Muses: Calliope: Hers is the scent of creative inspiration, and it is a boon to writers,poets and arbitrators: lavender and bright mint with bergamot, verbena,thyme and a touch of sweet orange and warm almond.

The Norns: Verdandi: Deep herbs and apple with black amber.


Because really, being debt-free is SO overrated...

(no subject)

Gnar.


Stupid formatting issues. I just may have to re-print a quarter of the 1500 envelopes I'm working on. *headdesk* [It's a mass mailing - worry more about the address being correct than the order of the names on the envelopes and how the lines are laid out.]

Progress

Little victories.


I can fit my 'curvy' size 10 pants. (Basically, it's a size 12-ish with a smaller number on the tag. Strokes my ego juuuuuuuust fine.) I can zip up the size actual-10 pants, but I'm afraid I'll either bust a seam or a ligament trying to do anything other than stand veeeeeery straight in them.

But I'm getting there. Slowly. My size 14s are finally too-damn-big, but the size 12s are still snug in the wrong spots. Damn drumstick thighs.

If I keep up my stealth-guru phase that I have this week (seeeeekrit lunges in the hall when no one's looking, using the elevator rails for push-ups, yoga stretches while waiting for the copier) and continue to avoid large meals entirely (I know, I know, starvation = bad, but so does a binge that lasts a week), I just may fit a real size 10 by next weekend. Because however much back this baby has, well... it looks better when it isn't jiggling like a midwestern granny's ambrosia.