I work in a ‘fragrance-free’ workplace.  This means no heavy perfumes, colognes, or scents of any kind.  It is my first ‘frangrance-free’ workplace and I hope not my last. 

From a financial perspective, it’s great not to have to spend $50 every few months for Armani Code, or Drakkar if I want to feel a little early 90’s or even some Polo for that distinct 80’s vibe.  As it relates to shopping, it makes the selection of anti perspirants rather easy.  No choosing between ‘Extreme Sport Ice Power’ or the ‘Evergreen Musk Original Fresh Scent’ or the ‘Locker Room When You Were in High School Scent’ (that, BTW, is aerosol right guard).   Nope, save all your ‘extreme’ blue colored stuff and hand me the clear unscented thank you very much.

The downside comes when you do run into someone who smells like a garbage can of disposed tester strips at Sephora.  Literally, I’m getting a headache in seconds…just this week the apparent victim of multiple perfume snipers stopped by and I took a pre-emptive Excedrin.

A similar development would be my sensitivity to smoking.  Certainly growing up in the sixties and seventies, many I knew smoked…grandparents, the neighbors (on both sides), friends who would visit the house and anywhere you went, a lit cig was the norm: restaurants, stores, K-mart, the grocery store, church, a birthing room…didn’t really matter. 

As such, you didn’t really notice the smell – and even today, on occasion, it can bring back fond memories (to this date, the smell of cigarette smoke on a balmy fall day reminds me of the Armada Fair).  However, when you haven’t been exposed to it in a while, it can hit you…if you’ve NEVER been exposed to it, the odor can really spank you!

Such was the case for our family this evening….

‘Submitted for your approval, a standard family of four, seeking a new restaurant because the employees are their neighborhood Leo’s fear that the family is stalking the servers; they visit a restaurant they have not been to in ten years (since the gum on their butt incident of 1998).’  -  This will make no sense to anyone who didn’t watch Twilight Zone re-runs on channel 20 when they were home sick as a kid.

We were looking for someplace fast, easy and different tonight.  We were taking the kids to gymnastics and just wanted a quick in and out.  Dayna suggested the restaurant at the bowling alley, I declined suggesting that it may be a be dank due to all the smoking that occurs in a bowling alley  So we decided to return to Memories after a long absence (see aforementioned gum/butt incident), they had advertised new ownership…why not.

So we ventured up, opened the door, and wthin two steps I was transported to the basement of our neighbor Rick.  Dayna and I quickly noted the smell, but the kids…who’ve not really been around smokers at all (and BTW I have no problem with people smoking…it’s a free country, knock yourselves out, not getting preachy here) were knocked on their asses.

Brody spend the first 10 minutes with both hands cupped over his mouth, creating a make-shift, though ineffective, air filter.  Mo was less dramatic, but equally as disgusted.

 It had been a long time since I’ve been in a room that layered in soot and while we did decide to stay for dinner, guilt did nag at me for much of the meal.  The kids endured but were glad to be out; reckon we won’t be back for another decade or so. 

I can’t even imagine what the world smelled like when I love Lucy was on, those fifties people were like industrial smoke stacks!

Like many people, there are some things I’m just drawn too…even if I have no practical need for said item. 

For some it may be figurines, others maybe shot glasses, or even Facebook friends.  For me, it is anything at ebags.  I LOVE shopping there and would buy everything, though I never hike, if I could.

Basically, I am totally gay for ebags.  I love the selection, the price and the quality of their products.  The first item I ever purchased was a backpack, designed for hikers, that I took on a motorcycle trip through Florida with my Dad.  That backpack held nearly a week’s worth of ratty jeans, tee’s and scivs and looked darn cool while doing it. 

Shortly thereafter I purchased another backpack to use as a diaper bag.  Sick of those unstructured, pillow-like pieces of crap they sell as diaper bags, falling off my shoulder every three seconds (and chasing away the ‘honeys’…LOL) I decided a backpack was in order so as to free up both hands for my super ninja parenting stylings.

I just picked what looked neat.  Turns out it was a serious, laptop backpack.  This is back when even a PC laptop cost 2 large, so I never intended to put a laptop in it.  Well I used it as a diaper bag.  That bag did go to Renaissance Fairs, impressing many a wench no doubt.  Visits to grandparents, museums, and parades.

Then over time, I got a job that required travel and that job came with a laptop.  Next thing I know, that backpack and I aren’t carrying formula and diapers to the Renaissance Fair (faire?), it’s Chicago, San Francisco, Boston, Milwaukee (like that is impressive…NOT), San Diego with a Dell (also not impressive). 

That backpack not only housed the work stuff, but the day-to-day essentials I would take on my after hours wanderings…falling in the pacific, looking for roads from Bullit (you’ll have to be over 50 to get that one) or staring at nothing in Milwaukee. 

Eventually, my backpack and I made it overseas.  That backpack had mass at Notre Dame (it took communion, I choose not to as I had a pretty big muffin that morning) and was searched by the royal guards outside the palace of the queen of the Netherlands as a potential terrorist threat (which I wasn’t and got to see the queen, prince and princess…and Putin around the corner) in Den Haag.  It walked passed the Hague with me as Slobadon Milosivec (SP?) was on trial and sat with me as I ate fois gras (which I still feel guilty about) and something they called ‘bambi’ on a river in Lyon France.  That backpack mourned with me as I visited the Louvre … twice, both times too late to see anything beyond the lobby.

When my travelin’ days were done that backpack found a new adventurer.  Brody.  Being good parents, and having read all the warnings about kids with curvature of the spine due to their packs, we purchased a very small one for him in kindergarten.  The thing didn’t hold shit.  Ol’ Red was called back into service.

I still remember watching Brody walk down the street to the school bus that year, my red backpack in tow.  Well, Brody used that back pack for four years.  I thought it might make it longer, but sadly, it was world weary, looked and smelled like ass, and per it’s durable power of attorney, the plug was pulled and it was tossed.

A moment of silence if you please.

So here I am, back at ebags, enjoying my shopping experience, and trying to justify not only a new backpack for Brody, but a little something for myself. 

Aside from the fact that we’re all overweight, consume twice or more than the average world citizen and that companies like Hanes, Wal-Mart,  JCP and Puma make children in Bangladesh work hours for nothing (NLRB press release)  so we can look cool at a low price…here is one more reason why a) people hate the US or that b) we just generally SUCK (this is an adjective AND a play on words…Link On my friends).

http://www.sugarfactory.com/

http://store.sugarfactory.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=16

A sucker, that costs 25 dollars, has assembly instructions and is named after Kim Kardashian?  Why are any of those words in the same description?

Brody is not a patient guy – he is the picture of American instant-gratification.  So it was no surprise that I was ….well…surprised as he relayed a tale to me the other day.

He asked if I would practice with him.  There was a song he was working on, a Spanish song, and he wanted me to do the background chords while he played the melody. 

I was happy to oblige and I appreciated he intermittent flourishes and attempts at syncopation.  When we had done it several times I asked why he was so into this one particular song.

He indicated that our guitar teacher told him that one of his other students received extra credit in Spanish class (in 9^th grade) for playing this song in front of the class.  SO…Brody wants to get this down so he can get extra credit…

FIVE YEARS FROM NOW!?

Why can’t he put that sort of dedication into more pressing matters?

Maura and I ran to the store for some fresh fruit, veggies (and of course Diet Coca Cola™).    As I was checking out, Mo kept leaning or trying to sit on the lower left, or ‘STAGING AREA’ of the u-check out device. 

I would remind her to move and she would, for a time.  However, she apparently did so a few times when I wasn’t looking. 

As I went to check out the bill was 1,117.00 dollars.  Seriously!  After recovering from a momentary freak out, I scrolled through the list and noted $1,067 in avocados by weight.

I personally think that the source of our current financial situation is American greed (buying far more than they needed (houses 4x times that of their parents or grandparents, cars that cost more than a small house, televisions the size of movie theaters, etc) and then wanting so much, but being unwilling to pay a reasonable price for it that companies were forced to have everything made by Chineese prisoners (cough-Walmart-cough). 

However, I also believe the policies of the republican administration magnified the problem (massive deregulation of the financial industry in particular). 

So it was with great humor, irony, curiosity and personal gratification that I noted a house vacant and for sale in the next subdivision with ‘George Bush’ as the realtor.  Can’t figure out if that is accurate (and I pity the man) or just a political commentary.

While the kids behavior, at times, can be quite mystifying at times (see earlier description of the ineffectiveness of traditional conditioning), it is refreshing when they say or do something that reveals that there is a smart kid in there…down deep….waaaay down deep. J

I have a lot of work to catch up on and decided I had to go in on Sunday.  Brody had volunteered to accompany me and actually woke me up (at 5:45 a.m.) for I had turned off the alarm clock.

While there (for way too long) Brod was a great help.  Just before we left, he went the drinking fountain and upon his return was covered in water.  No big.

When we arrived home, D (who has a mutant stain sensing power) noted the discoloration on his tee as it dried.  When asked he replied…

“I miscalculated the trajectory of the water from the fountain.”

Wow, normally he’s telling us clouds look like ducks rubbing their butts or giggling at anything that ends in ‘art’ and then he uses two impressive terms.