Mua ha hahaha ah ah!

I have turned my minions into zombies! Zombies, I tell you!

I have shared with the minions my little addiction, and they have succumbed as have I, their mighty leader!

Oh yes.

See, while on road trip over the Fourth of July, in some forgotten town off of Highway 5, with snackies on my mind, I picked up two packs of these little beauties:

I took them and squirreled them into our car and I ATE them. Oh yes I did. Every one of them. I didn’t even offer one to The Good Man. I just ate ’em and ate ’em until they were gone.

Like that first hit off a crack pipe, I was done. I succumbed. First taste is free….then you’re gonna pay.

While devouring these nutty little heroin balls, I saw that the Pnuttles people had a website where they vend their product. Then, I thought…maybe I can save a couple bucks by ordering from Amazon.

To Amazon I went and YES! there they were. Only…it’s more complicated. I found the butter toffee almonds….but with *cinnamon* added. I didn’t even look at price, I one-click ordered those bad boys so fast your head would swim!

Oh my.

Last evening I arrived home from a difficult day at work to find that my precious had been delivered to the front door step. Yes!

I tore into the box like a wild animal to discover that I had purchased not one but TWO jars of my addiction. WHAT!?!?

Turns out I ordered 1 each of a two pack. Good lord.

The Husbandnator looked in askance (remember, at this point he was not yet a Pnuttles zombie), “we can’t eat all of those” he told me.

I shrank back, protecting my precious. But then cooler heads prevailed, and I realized he’s right.

“I’ll take one to work,” I replied.

That seemed reasonable, we agreed, then cracked open the jar we were keeping.

Husband took a few bites and declared “EVIL!”

Umm hmmm…..

We sat on the couch, feeding our addiction, watching who cares what on the television. Didn’t matter, only the constant crunch crunch of not-too-sweet delicious toffee almonds.

Today, I brought the other jar to work. I posted a note, “These are very addictive. Enjoy!”

That was twenty minutes ago and there is now a line of zombie minions coming to my door exclaiming “these are sooooo goooood”

Yup.

My Pnuttles army of zombies increases. We are unstoppable! (except for when the jar runs out and we all flop over in sugar coma)

Here’s where you too can succumb and become a member:

Link

: sniiiiiff : Oh yeah, that’s the stuff

Earlier today, in a meeting at work, one of my teammates was given a gift from our clients. It was a really nifty wool stadium blanket.

Another lady asked to look at it, and when it landed in her hands, she brought it to her nose and took a good deep smell.

Just writing that…I know you know that smell, right? Nothing else smells like wool.

I smiled, because I was across the table and I knew exactly what she was smelling. I thought to myself about my own memories of the smell of wool.

Usually winter, outside, snowy day in Albuquerque (the only time it would be cold enough to wear a wool sweater). That perfect storm of smells combined, wool, a snowy day, a bit of sweat and the dirt on my mittens (that got there from making a snowball to lob, offline, at my brother).

Yeah.

So then this got me thinking about the deep associations made from odors, both good and bad.

But I was thinking about good…about the smells I deeply love.

The first that immediately came to mind was leather. I mean, unless you are a PETA advocate, who doesn’t love the smell of good leather?

Just that smell can dredge up lots of happy memories.

Like…the combined smell of leather and saddle soap you get upon opening the door to a tack room. Especially when I was taking riding classes at NMSU, because that tack room had rows and rows of saddles, all smelling nice.

Or…back when we first started dating, The Good Man had this black hard-leather jacket. It’s now too big for him and I think he recently gave it away, but I can easily remember that smell. Hugging him really tight, sinking my face into the shoulder of that jacket and inhaling deeply, tattooing the scent of cute boy and leather deeply into every single cell of my being.

Yeah.

Or, or….how about the smell of a new baseball glove? So many kids will get a new glove and spend lots of time with that thing firmly over the face inhaling. Nothing like that smell.

But I seem to be stuck on leather…

What’s another good smell?

Oh, I know! So…up and down the peninsula here, they have tons of Eucalyptus trees. Early in the morning or very late at night (depending on what side of the nightclub you’re on), when you get the heavy damp fog, it makes those trees let go that very distinctive scent.

The moist, cool damp and Eucalyptus smell… when I travel somewhere else, and then come home, I always latch on to that smell first. It’s SO the Bay Area. Easily identifiable by anyone who has ever lived here.

Here’s an easy one for all the New Mexico folks…the smell of chiles roasting. Utterly identifiable…for miles. So reminiscent of home.

Summer rain on hot pavement. God I love that smell!

Sheets washed with Downy and dried on the clothesline. Haven’t done it in years, so who knows if it smells good anymore? Doesn’t matter, in my memories, it’s always fantastic. I think it helped being in NM because stuff dried really fast and didn’t pick up too much environmental yuck.

Home baked cinnamon rolls served on Christmas morning.

The soap and water smell of my husband just after he emerges from the shower. So delicious! (ok, that’s two about The Good Man, sorry!)

This is kind of funny, but how about the first time you noticed the distinctive smell of money? For me, it was after getting paid allowance for the first time with the kind of money that folded, not jingled. That dollar bill smelled like potential to me.

Aw, heck, I suppose I could go on all night this way.

I’m sure there’s some scientist who would explain how odors can make such vivid memories (like here), but I don’t need to know the science.

Right now, I’m sitting on the couch, watching a baseball game…thinking of how the yard smells on a nice July night like this. Garlic fries, hot dogs and marine layer.

Indelible.

Whoa, whoa the Fourth of July…whoa!

Man. Can’t believe we’re already into July. Of 2009. Wow.

Been a little quiet here on the blog-o-rama since I was out and about all weekend.

Big fun. Well worth it!

Sure, I thought I could never top last year’s holiday celebration, featuring the viewing of fireworks from a Cessna aeroplane.

But this year went ahead and topped it.

There were fireworks, but not like you think.

This year, The Good Man and I loaded up the car and went on a road trip.

Destination: LA

Reason? My amazing, world-class talented cousin wrote and produced a musical and chose this weekend for a family and friends weekend show.

Now, I had read an early version of the script, so I knew what to expect, but this show blew well past even my own expectations!

It was an amazing night, all around.

So there we were in West Hollywood…my cousin was wise and prescient enough to get us a limo (easy to corral a lot of family that way!).

We all got ourselves dolled up for the show and loaded up. Off we went, cruising the streets of Los Angeles.

So yeah, you know, on the Fourth, I got to emerge from a limo, in LA, on my way to this fabulous new show…

Cuz I roll like that.

Yes, I was able to keep my skirt down as I emerged. Yes, I was also wearing chones. I also roll like that.

No one needs to know that really, rather than “emerge” from the limo, my high heeled foot slipped off the step rail, thus whacking the side of my foot on the way down and causing me to actually tumble out of the limo.

But in my memory, when I retell the story, I emerged gracefully, like an elegant movie star from a bygone era.

It was just all around, an amazing weekend that went by way WAY too fast. I got to be with my cousin, one of my most favorite people in the whole world. I got to be with family, I got to see a killer show, I got to hit a couple Hollywood hot spots, and I got to have another amazing memory to make with my fabulous husband.

I can’t ask for anything better than all that!

And now, here we are at Monday.

This morning, there is a line for the auto-espresso maker.

The light of day in the real world is always a bit of a let down, now in’nit?

This is so me

Do you ever have those moments in life where something happens that is just *so* quintessentially you? I mean, you can’t deny it, just has “that’s totally me” written ALL over it.

This happened last evening when I came home from work. I found two packages waiting for me. Items I’d ordered separately had managed to arrive on the same day.

And it was Karen-day a’go-go.

The first item opened was this:

It’s *fabulous*. A pretty pink CZ sparkler of a cocktail ring. I loooove cocktail style rings, the bigger, brassier and more obnoxious the better. Yes! I’ll wear the rings others will eschew as “too big.”

Plus! I got this one on a killer deal. I mean, an amazing sale at an already discounted site! This thing is full of fire and pizzazz and I totally have the outfit to wear it with this weekend.

Total girl-type “squee!” action when I opened this up and slipped it on and it winked at me and fit perfectly.

So satisfying.

Then, ready to move on, I opened the other package. And it was this:

That there’s my new Buck knife. Not the first Buck knife to come into my possession, only the latest. I bought one of this same model (in gray) for The Good Man a couple birthdays ago, and have been lusting for it since. Compact, fits into that 5th pocket you got in your jeans. Small but powerful blade. Love. It!

Plus, got it in rockin’ red! Oh yeah, baby!

And as I sat there, giddy, with my new pink ring in one hand and my new Buck knife in the other, my loving husband remarked, “That’s my girl!”

That’s just Karen being Karen.

Oh yes indeed!

Another idea The Good Man had first, but wasn’t fast enough to capitalize on:

Shoes from a vending machine

To be fair, The Good Man’s idea was more along the lines of “you know, you should buy a bunch of cheap flip flops and leave them in all our cars….”

This after me whining, *again*, about aching feet.

I remember “back in the day” when I could wear bangin’ shoes all day long and not have trouble. Ah the continued joy of becoming a cranky old fart (it’s only getting better!).

I *totally* think that these Rollasole people could do a flip flop version too!

**this post brought to you by the girl who totally wanted to wear her Fat Babies under her wedding dress…but got veto’d down by the skinny harpies at the place who made the gown. Feh!