Okay. I know. I knoooooooooow. It’s been forever (well, something like five weeks) since I last posted anything. Why haven’t I?
Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?
Why do I bother to leave this blog up when I’m not posting anything?
And the fact is, I have no idea. It’s not that I have nothing to say. I probably have less to say about perfume at this point in my life, that much is true. But I do have things to say, and I am saying them in another venue every day. I am working on novels (to the point that The CEO is all like WHY HAVEN’T YOU DONE THIS YET AND WHY ARE THERE NO CLEAN SOCKS WHY WHY??? And I have to hang my head and say things that sound really lame coming out of the mouth of an adult. Like, “Well, I was writing.” WRITING WUT?? he wants to know, and I have to hang head further and say, “Well, I was writing the story of this teenager just struggling to get through high school and worried that he will never get into college and his abusive dad will find him now that his mother is dead and he’s totes afraid that his girlfriend will go off to college and forget him.” And The CEO says, DID YOU JUST ACTUALLY SAY TOTES DID YOU YOU DID DIDN’T YOU? DEAR GOD MY WIFE IS DIGRESSING TO THE MENTAL AGE OF A ONE DIRECTION FAN STOPPITTT NOOO!!!”).
And then there is the drama with Taz, who is now an 8th grader. We still cannot read his handwriting. Worse, his teachers cannot read his handwriting, and have now instituted the consequences we have been discussing with them since first grading period: if they can’t read it, it’s wrong. His Algebra I grades are suffering now.
Oh, and Gaze still thinks he wants to attend a service academy for college. Which his worrywart mother, which would be ME, has mixed feelings about. Send my baby into the military? Well, fine, but you better not be sending him into combat, or I will come beat you over the head with my mother angst.
The community chorus just performed our spring concert this past weekend, and I’m glad it’s over because I am just EXHAUSTERATED. We normally sing Serious Choral Music – which I really like – but we just did a Broadway-and-popular-music concert, at our local theater, which has come back from the dead as a community project over the last five years or so. I did a lot of Broadway stuff in high school, probably too much of the same-old same-old, and I don’t find the music challenging at all, so I was sort of dreading this concert. It was only when A) our director announced that we would be costuming and adding some stage action, and B) I realized that a good half of the program would consist of humorous pieces to balance the gravity of the Les Miserables medley that constituted the second half of the program, that I began to feel that it would all be okay.
I like musical theater. As a kid, I performed in several productions at our church – nobody does this anymore, do they? There was one called “Cool in the Furnace,” about Daniel and his three long-named buddies getting tossed into the fiery furnace for disobeying the Persian king’s stricture against worshiping any entity other than himself. And then there was one called “Sam,” I think, about the Good Samaritan, in which I got to be the man robbed and beaten by thieves, later helped by the Samaritan man. I collapsed TOTALLY CONVINCINGLY. Totally. Then there was a valley-wide production of “Celebrate Life,” a musical about the life of Jesus, put on by all the youth groups of the Baptist churches in the area.
My high school drama department did not do musicals. But my first year of college, I did a turn in “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum” as Tintinnabula, one of the courtesans. SO. Much. Fun.
And this performance was fun, too. I enjoyed creating my French peasant costume: long blue skirt, white peasanty blouse, scarf, vest, mobcap, apron, revolutionary cockade. I enjoyed seeing what everybody else came up with for costumes. I got to ham it up on stage, too, which is always a blast. Stages are MEANT FOR HAMMING, Y’ALL. It’s only since the age of the movie closeup that we’ve come to understand the art of acting to be more subtle.
And now we have, for example, Gary Oldman. (Who can, mind you, chomp up scenery with the best of them, but most often doesn’t.) And My Fantasy Boyfriend Tom Hardy (why, yes, that title is now officially part of his name), who was once described in a review of “Lawless” as doing more acting with the back of his neck than his costar Shia LeBeouf (I am not a fan) did with his entire self.
But I digress. And now I have a confession to make.
The ladies were on the risers, behind the curtain, preparing for our next piece, while two gentlemen from the chorus performed “Agony” from Into the Woods. There was an introduction for this Sondheim musical, which I admit I have only seen pieces of and never the entire thing, either live or the recent movie. Our narrator described this “battle of the romantic leads,” where Cinderella’s Prince Charming meets up with Rapunzel’s prince in the woods and they start chatting… “They compare their swords and their troubles,” the narrator said, in the middle of this intro.
THEY COMPARE THEIR SWORDS. I missed the rest of it because I was laughing so hard I snorted.
Multiple times. On stage. Behind the curtain. You know sometimes when you know you’re not supposed to laugh but you do anyway, and then while trying desperately to stop things get exponentially funnier, and you practically swallow a lung because you are trying so hard but you can’t stop laughing? That.
This is a big big no-no. I’m not proud. Really, I’m not. Please remember, I know from teenage boys. Of COURSE they compare their swords. Or their “swords,” heh. (I am hanging my head in shame right now.)
But anyway, here’s the song, from the recent Disney movie, with Chris Pine and Billy Magnussen.
I have never been a big Chris Pine fan. For one thing, he looks a lot like our neighbor’s teenage son. My recurrent thought upon seeing the Star Trek reboot movies was, “I can’t take this seriously. They’ve handed the Enterprise over to Jake-the-kid-next-door, and he just got his license last week, for heaven’s sake! Also, Spock is kinda hot, and That’s Just Wrong.” Besides which, I made the mistake of watching This Means War, with My Fantasy Boyfriend and The New Captain Kirk as spies battling over the same girl, and Pine is pretty much a jerk in it. (Actually, that’s a terrible movie in general. Don’t see it. Or Lawless, that’s terrible too although Hardy is great in it – read the book, called The Wettest County in the World, instead.)
But now that I’ve seen Chris Pine sing, I’ve kind of changed my mind about him. Yes, that’s really him singing. And he’s channeling William Shatner here, too, I think, which seems to indicate that he’s got a sense of humor.
I’m such a sucker for a guy with a nice voice, especially one who can make me laugh. I still think he’s more of a ham than a subtle actor, but who says there’s no call for that anymore?
I did not wear perfume on stage. I wanted to, but I wanted to not bother other people more.
I’ve tested some new things recently, but am far more focused on enjoying what I have.
It’s spring, so of course I am wearing All My Greenies. Parfums de Nicolai Le Temps d’une Fete, Chanel No. 19, Crown Perfumery Crown Bouquet, Ralph Lauren Safari, Guerlain Chamade. Haven’t gotten out the Jacomo Silences yet, but I probably ought to.
I’m wearing All My Spring Florals, too: DelRae Amoureuse, DSH White Lilac, Penhaligon’s Violetta, Mary Greenwell Plum, and my too-small decant of DelRae Wit. I still haven’t formally reviewed Wit, but to be perfectly honest about it, all I really need to say is, I need more of it.
I’ve also been wearing my small 2009 decant of Guerlain Apres l’Ondee, which is without doubt a wonderful thing, all Debussy/Monet Impressionism, a gauzy silk scarf of wistful loveliness. It’s been reformulated recently (2013 or 2014, I think), to be less heliotrope and violet, and more iris. Which is a darn shame, I tell you, because the world needs more wistful and less businesslike.
I have only worn my treasured bit of Jean Patou Vacances once this summer, despite its being almost as perfect a spring scent as Apres l’Ondee. Vacances has been rereleased in Patou’s “Heritage Collection,” and I’ve already ordered a small decant of it. Can’t wait to smell it, although I am trying to school myself to the attitude that it won’t smell like it used to, either. I’m just hoping for “pretty good” at this point.
So. I’m going to stop beating myself up about not having anything to blog, and just blog when I feel the spirit move me. Hope that’s okay.