Monday, January 31, 2011

What's that smell?

I was listening to the radio last week and a reporter used the phrase: "the unmistakable smell of seal." I don't remember the last time I smelled seal and I don't feel at all confident I'd recognize its odour over other sea creatures. Many scents are unmistakeable to me - spring rain, apple pie, even garbage. But seal? Not so much stored in my olfactory memory.

Miscellaneous

I have been purging my house of clutter, which unfortunately means you'll be subjected to my discoveries as I purge. Last week I dared to pull the big box filled with miscellany from my coat closet, where I'd put it in exhaustion or desperation more than six years ago after moving into my house. I found therein a truly random collection of items that could have no other home than a box labelled "miscellaneous." Here are just a few examples:

- A paper with the combination to my bike lock. That would be the lock for the bike I had in junior high. The combination is 94263. If you can find it, you can have it.

- A small stick that some vague sense tells me was once of great sentimental value. It is now simply a stick, mildly irritating to me since I clearly once judged it worthy of saving but cannot recall its former significance. I shall relegate it to the outdoors, where sticks belong.

- A rock with the words "Moon Teeth" printed on one side (in my writing) and a picture of a moon with a tooth on the other side. It is dated 1994. Puzzling. I suppose I shall throw it outside with the aforementioned stick, although if anthropologists find it 100 years from now, I'm betting it'll stump them even more than it stumps me. Perhaps all the more reason to do it.

- Two 35 mm films, unused - If only I'd found you a decade or two ago. Alas too much time has passed, and we must say farewell.

- A single velcro hair roller, separated from the rest, sad and alone, consoled only by the fact that it sits along two other rejected cylinders (see "two 35 mm films, unused").

Along with the above random items, I also discovered a bracelet and several pairs of earrings I'd long since given up on, as well as my junior high and high school yearbooks. And so it is that I take the following lesson: A miscellaneous box is where objects - junk and treasures alike - go to die. Don't let this happen to you.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Smitten with mittens

I lost two mittens last week - not a pair of mittens - two single mittens that had each been part of another pair. This left me with one black mitten and one red, thereby making it difficult to pass them off as a pair (to complicate matters the red one is actually a glove). Instead I spent the week with my hands tucked in my sleeves while two perfectly functional but ill-matched mittens sat handless at home.

The loss of a single mitten, as many of you know, is deeply distressing, almost moreso than losing the pair. At least when you lose a pair, you have a faint hope of being reunited with them again, or you can imagine that some other pair of hands has found their comfort in sub-zero temperatures. With one mitten awol, you're simply left wondering whether to give up hope and toss the other one or hold out for a miracle.

And if you've ever tried to buy mittens post-Christmas, you know that it's an almost impossible task. You're more likely to find shorts and a t-shirt than mittens, although there's a solid three months of winter ahead (she says optimistically).

I wasn't prepared to admit defeat yet and set out on the challenging quest to find new mittens, so I held out, hoping I'd glance across a crowded room and see one of my mislaid mittens again. Then it happened. I woke up one morning late last week with the realization that the last time I'd had the mittens as a set, I'd put them in my workout bag after arriving at work. I leapt out of bed and peered into the bag, almost afraid to hope. Much to my delight, there was the poofy black mitten, all warm and inviting and, I'm sure, if mittens could talk, just as happy to see me as I was to see it.

My red mitten remains alone, envious of the black mitten's good fortune in being reunited with its mate. I remain hopeful that it too will find its happy ending as a match on my cold hands. Having experienced this ordeal, I feel quite sure I will never hear the story of the three little kittens who've lost their mittens quite the same way again (although it does beg the question: Why are little kittens wearing mittens when they have their own built in?) And as I count my blessings on this - one of the coldest days of the year - you can be assured that matching mittens are at the top of the list.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Hiatus

I'm back to blogging after a six-week hiatus. The Oxford English dictionary defines "hiatus" as "a pause or break in continuity in a sequence or activity." It's very matter-of-fact, non-judgmental. Not like "lazy period" or "unexplained absence," which take on a decidedly accusatory tone.

"Hiatus" allows you to imagine I was doing something vastly important with my time, like putting an end to world hunger, sharpening my intellect or at the very least visiting exotic locales. Alas, I was doing none of the aforementioned, and like you (I imagine), I spent much of December in a sugar-induced stupor vacantly watching holiday specials. It's only now, two-and-a-half weeks into January, that I feel brave enough to venture out, metaphorically speaking, into a world where continuous eating and merriment have given way to a renewed commitment to discipline. I went to pilates class twice last week; the crowded room betrayed the scent of freshly made New Year's resolutions. I vow that I'll still be there in February, March and April. I'm sure others vow the same. We'll see if they (or I) stick it out or take a "hiatus" for the spring, summer and fall.

While I often make a vow to be more organized come the New Year, I've taken a hiatus from that resolution (See? Just the word makes my heart feel lighter). A courier dropped off a package to my office last week and when he asked me to sign for receipt of the item, he said, "Don't even bother looking for a pen on that desk. You'll never find one." I could have told him I was on hiatus from organizing (can you be on hiatus from something you don't generally do anyway?) and allowed him to imagine the many other important things I was doing instead, but I just laughed jovially, figuring my cheerfulness would compensate for my slovenliness.

For the most part, though, the season of hiatuses is over (except for some TV series, which seem to be on hiatus more than not). It's back to business, back to goal-setting and productivity, back to blogging. Sweet adieu, hiatus. 'Til we meet again...