In the Drear of February I Wish You Daffodils

Oh how I do enjoy opening up that mail box, reaching inside, and tearing into a non-digital letter from a friend. The thought behind it, the time it took to sit and write it with ink, and of course seeing the person's unique handwriting. It all makes me smile.

Anyone get a letter that they'll always remember?

Why Old Books Smell Good

Anyone that's stuck their nose inside a few age-worn books (better yet, surrounded themselves with stacks of them at a library) knows what aroma I am referring to, that of old pages. While reading the book Perfumes: The Guide I was happy to read an explanation into this delightful aroma. "Lignin, the stuff that prevents all trees from from adopting the weeping habit, is a polymer made up of units that are closely related to Vanillin. When made into paper and stored for years, it breaks down and smells good. Which is how divine providence has arranged for secondhand bookstores to smell like good quality vanilla absolute, subliminally stocking a hunger for knowledge in us all."

I can't think of a better scent combo than old leather and gentle vanilla to have around while reading.  

Perfumes: The Guide is penned by Luca Turrin & Tania Sanchez. Their writing is often biting and downright mean sometimes. They really let one know where they stand. I love it!

It's All Relative, Sondre Lerche & Paul Cram,

You look like Gollum, are too skinny, have a nice body but weird face... Casting directors can be vicious in their commentary. So it's nice when they do say good things.

Recent note from a casting director:

the Norwegian musician Sondre Lerche was on Letterman last night. He looked like he could be your relative!

I took it as a great compliment & I can see it. Especially with a few side by side comparison photos.

See Sondre perform on Letterman

 

The Male Unitard & The Emperor's New Clothes...

Unitards, like speedos, reveal a lot about a guy. This realization is unavoidable as I am looking at my reflection in the mirror next to the row of porcelain sinks on the 5th floor office building men's room.

How I Got Here

When the wardrobe gal handed me my unitard costume a few minutes ago, I looked at it and chuckled. Stretched the fabric between my fingers a bit. (I could see my fingers, plain as day through the thin material.) I asked her what to wear under it? "Maybe nothing," she says. "Or possibly your briefs. Do you have flesh colored briefs on?" 

I think she has me confused with a well-prepared male model. The type that brings along a little man-bag with model essentials to a modeling audition. Essentials would include: three pairs of pristine folded underwear in black, white, and flesh tone colors; a sharp razor to manscape on a moments notice, and breath mints. But I am not a male model and this isn't an audition for the latest CK underwear campaign. Goodness no, this is a shoot for a local radio station known for their comedic commercials.

This is my "fitting" for the commercial I booked. I was instructed to change here in the men's room near the elevators at the front of the building, and head back to the conference room to show the director as soon as I am changed into the 'tard. That's how I got to be standing here wearing a unitard.