Wordless Wednesday.

This week's photo prompt for Magpie Tales is a botttle of perfume that was given to our muse, Willow, by her daughter.

 I'm like way late in doing this post----the new prompt will be up tomorrow--- and was on the verge of skipping it altogether, but since I'd jotted down a few notes on this prompt, I decided to go ahead and write down my thoughts whether I post it over at Mag or not.

Having been a practicing hypnotist for nigh on to twenty years I utilized the principles of neurolinquistic programing many, many times.  The value of smell to enable us to recall memories from the past is well known.  The perfume is a perfect example: anytime the scent of an old flame's perfume wafts our way we are instantly transported back in time to  certain situations; a dance perhaps or something more intimate....well you get the picture.   To enhance my search for other instances of pleasures recounted from stimulating our olfactory sense I did a thesaurus search for the word scent: smell, perfume, odor, fragrance, aroma, and nose were the words proffered.

I like the smell of babies freshly bathed and powdered.
The smell of the sea; brisk, bracing, salty and full of the promise of adventure.
 The smell of the rich loam of my garden bring thoughts of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, eggplant and carrots, yes carrots fresh earthy smelling carrots; oolala.
The smell of autumn leaves, both wading through piles of crisp heady piles as well as the burning leaf piles that bring memories of halloween goblins and legends like Sleepy Hallow!
The pungent aroma, nose, of newly uncorked red wine brings thoughts of french dinining in the southwest of France; of romance and castles and..........
I like the smell of new hay in the mow and dairy barns bring pleasant memories of winter nights playing in the mow and coming to the cows for warmth.
In the morning nothing is more stimulating than the aroma of freshly ground Costa Rican coffee beans.
Sitting on the patio sipping lemon balm tea under the maple and reading the Paris Review is so meditatiove.
Rubbing basil leaves while weeding the garden brings pleasure to an otherwise tedious task.
Or stopping to whiff the aroma of vanilla from the bark of the ponderosa pines in the New Mexican Rockies, just for a pick-me-up on a 20 mile hike.
The fragrance of our heirloom roses from June through August is always a treat when wandering around the yard.
What could be better than the perfume of a basket full of freshly picked MacIntosh apples.  Well maybe the aroma from the oven of the cinnamon laced apple pie baking therein.
And last and very wonderful is the smell of old books in a seasoned library while relaxing in a well kept leather chair.

What delicious fragrances will you add to this list?

Ever since my 59th birthday I've thought from time to time what it would feel like to be 65.  You see, most of the men on my father's side of my family died on or before their 58th birthday.  So when I celebrated my 59th a huge weight evaporated from my mind.

Today my 65th anniversary has arrived.  Do I feel any different than, say, when I was 64 or 59 even?  I can't say that I do.  But I do feel different than when I was 15.

"I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now" 

1. At 15 I could ride a bike.
2. At 65 I can ride a bike, but I can drive a car too
3. I was too young to go to war
4. I'm to old to go to war
5. I had hair at 15--- dark and curly
6. I don't have that problem today

While there are some things about being 65 that might be discouraging,  it's the best deal I could negotiate today.
At 15 life gave me 100%,  At 65 I give life 100%

Magpie # 32

Phil and I, 17 year old virgins, 6 foot tall and bullet proof, joined the Corps after high school and took our places in 'Nam with India Co. 3rd Marines.

In our first battle, Phil took a gunshot to his leg; severing his achilles tendon. While not a go home wound it did land him in the naval hospital in Japan. We knew he'd be back with us in a couple months.

Getting shot brought Phil face to face with his mortality and he resolved that if he was going to die in this war, he wasn't going to die a virgin. So during his convalescence,in Japan, he made a visit to a local whore house just outside the compound.

Inside the brothel he handed the madame 200 yen and a young Japanese woman appeared and led him upstairs to a bedroom. He didn't speak Japanese and she spoke no English so conversation was through hand gestures only. On a bedside table was a lamp which the girl switched on and a dim light bathed the room. Next to the lamp stood an hourglass. She flipped the hourglass upside down. As the sand funneled through the narrow waist she took off her kimono and, naked, lay down on top of the bed.

Phil stood still as a statue, staring at the hourglass until the girl cleared her throat and giving Phil a puzzled look mimed to him to take off his clothes. Looking now at the whore, he stripped naked. His limp dick stared at the floor. She motioned to him to get on the bed and she used her hands to stimulate his peter. He glanced at the hourglass. Next she put his penis in her mouth and began a forceful sucking. He found the sensation uncomfortable; like being stuck in a vacuum cleaner. He pushed her head away from his groin, and looked again at the sand pouring through the glass. Now she was laying atop of him grinding her mons against his willy, trying to entice a cock like erection from him. She kissed him on the mouth and slipped her tongue between his lips, but his dong wasn't stiff enough to slip through her nether lips.

When the last grain of sand dropped on to the pile, the girl got up, donned her kimono and left the room.

I stand today, 27 August 2010, staring at Phil's head stone for the 45th year in a row. The engraving is simple enough:

Philip Benoit

Born: Portland, Maine, September 19th, 1945
Died: Viet Nam, August 27th, 1964

This is a work of fiction.

28th Adirondack Canoe Classic - 90 Miler - Old Forge to Saranac Lake

"Grueling!"

"Yes it was, to paraphrase Dickens: it was the best of 90 milers, it was the worst of 90 milers."

The above is a snippet of the conversation between Leigh and myself while riding home from the 28th Adirondack Canoe classic.

" Day one and three were the most arduous of any of the six 90's we've done, and day two was the most serene and satisfying."

"Today was definitlythe hardest day 3 we've had. What was it about day one that was so challenging?"

"Well, let's see: 4th lake was pretty rough all the way across and got worse as we entered the channel into Inlet. Then there was my favorite; Browns tract, but actually we negotiated that 2.5 miles of switch backs better than ever. I think we get better at our turns every year. I was dreading Racquette lake, and it didn't dissappoint; first we saw the resue boat transporting a team and their canoe to shore after they capsized and then that young man capsized his one man canoe right next to us. I wanted to finish our rescue of him but the rescue boat appeared and took over for us, but it would have been neat to practice that rescue technique. Actually the rest of the route was pretty uneventfull until the last half hour on Blue Mountain Lake to the finish line."

"Jan on his Stand-up paddle board was pretty amazing!"

"I'll say. I'm amazed that he stood on that thing for the close to 9 hours it took him to finish day one!

********************************************

"Ya know, on reflection, and compared with the 2 hours we spent battling the waves and 15 mile an hour wind on upper Saranac Lake this morning, day one was actually pretty mild all told."

Karen said there were a lot of boats capsized, even one of the war canoes went hull up and the crew had to swin for 15 minutes!!"

"What's amazing is that our total times over the last 3 years have been quite close: between 20 and 21 hours."

"When Mac made the announcement before the 1st wave took off that every paddler was to don their life jackets, I knew we were in for it."

"I was getting nervous, when we were taking on so much water, that we'd destabalize and end up with our hull pointing to the sky and us bobbing like corks in the water."


" At least we were going directly into the wind, unlike Middle Saranac where we had to zig-zag because the wind was broad siding us."

"Don't forget the rain!"

"Ya, but at least when the rain started the wind abated. I'd paddle calm water in the rain rather than fight rough water and wind anyday."


"How about that bottle-neck at the last portage? What should have taken us 5 minutes to traverse took 20 minutes at least. I took a chill and was shivering before we finally got back in the water. Thank goodness paddling again warmed me up quickly."

"I was never so glad to get into some dry clothes and then go through the chow line; that chicken breast sandwhich, baked beeans, potato salad and lemonade was the perfect recovery meal."

"The hot chicken broth was my favorite."

"The chocolate milk and bananas were my favorites; especially at the end of day one.
THANK -YOU BYRNE DAIRY!!!!!!"

"Remember when we were coming across Eagle Lake and you said: 'don't even think about trying to get me to do this next year'? So this is your last 90?"

"I'll be here next year:) God willin', You?"

"You're not doin' it without me!"

"OK> Let's see if we can cut an hour off our time next year?"

Day 2... 12 miles straight down a mirror surfaced Long Lake.

Day 2, 9/11/10 was the most perfect of days to import into yourself the essence of the Adirondacks. The dense mist that we chased down the lake created a surreal meditative scene that made even paddling seem relaxing. We come back every year for the day 2s and to see just how far we can push our physical and mental limits!

********************
If you don't push yourself to your limits how will you know how far you can go?

In an hour we will be traveling south to Old Forge, NY to participate, for the 6th year in a row, in the Adirondack Canoe Classic-90 miler. It is a race that takes place over 3 days. Tomorrow, 10 Sept. 2010 we will paddle to the start line at tThe Old Forge Public Beach. We will proceed across Old Forge Pond and paddle 1.5 miles of channel to first Lake. We will follow the Fulton Chain of lakes thru second, third, and fourth lakes. Fourth Lake is 5.5 miles across then thru another channel at the Town of Inlet and cross a small body of water called 5th lake. Next we carry thru Inlet to sixth lake. That's just the start........



At the end of the day we will make shore at the Beach at Blue mountain Lake after completing 34 miles including 3.5 miles of carries.

Ménage à trois

Labor day, 2010, is dawning calm, serene and coolish. Much better than the past two days where the wind was whipping around at 30 mph piling up 4 foot swells on the river and intermittantantly dropping a downpour interspersed with sparkling sunshine. It was truly a weekend for enjoying indoor activities nestled around the fireplace. And I must confess to spending the entire last two days in my comfortable easy chair with my nose in a novel. It was a pleasure to sit inside reading and occasionally peeking out the window past the giant spider ensconced in her enormous web to watch the neighbors and their traditional Labor day guests frolic in the yard bundled up in their hoodies and playing that toss- the- sack- through- the- hole-in the board game. Those young people came to have fun and have fun they did; weather or no. They frolicked like the puppies who'd accompanied them, BBQd, drank beer, and just had a fun time. The only traditional activity that was neglected was the huge bonfire, which would have endangered their camp and ours, with the wind as strong as it was.

Reading reminds me of my grand-daughter; 14 year old Hailey (15 in Nov.) who was here from Texas to spend the first 3 weeks of Aug. with us here by the shores of the sparkling St. Lawrence river. Hailey is a voracious reader. I'm guessing that while she was here she must have read at least 12 novels, maybe more. She could easily polish one off in a day or day and a half. I think "The Life of PI" took her 2 1/2 days.

She also read the newest edition of France, a UK published magazine that graces our table 6 times a year. It is basically a magazine to satiate the francophone's desire to see as many old and picturesque medieval french towns and villages as possible. There are articles to teach the reader about the french culture and even a few exercises to assist one in gaining a working knowledge of the romance of the French language. Hailey got to the magazine before me and although we didn't know it at the time, an article with-in contained a reference to the term Menage a trois.

Thus, seemingly out of the blue, Hailey inquires of her grand mother, when the two of them were alone, "Grand-ma, what does menage a trois mean?" Caught unawares my wife, who like myself has never shied away from the tough questions from our children nor our grand children, said;" Hailey it refers to 3 people having sex together."

" OOOHHH,...... Mama got a bottle of wine as a gift and it said menage a trois on the label."

"Someone must have given it to your mother as a gag gift," chuckles grandma.

"I don't think so," says Hailey. Mama doesn't know any French so she wouldn't know what that meant."

Out of the mouths of babes!