often improbable

the present
Today the Tangee lipstick arrived from The Vermont Country Store and I couldn't wait to try it. Put some on as soon as I got to the car in the post office parking lot.

Yes, it did bring back memories ~ the smell, the feel, the taste. I did not however fall under a nostalgic spell. It's fun, it was too expensive, and the lipstick that changes color to become uniquely yours, turned neon coral on my lips! Scary! I don't remember what color it was when I was fifteen but it sure doesn't work now! I'll keep it as an artifact ~ along with the bottle of Heaven Sent that I bought circa 1956 and my mother kept for me until she died in 1989 ~ and (!!) I still have it.  Do they still make this stuff?

The scent is muy strong and may have fermented a bit over the decades since it nearly knocked me out when I removed the cap. It's on the table next to me now, cap tightly screwed on and the scent is making me whoozy.  How and why do I still have it?

and now for the present
I'm way ahead in my pair-of-socks-a-month challenge. Mostly because I cheated. Along with new starts I finished others. Here are the bamboos so far. 

And woolies. The two on the left are the Van Gogh designs: Sunflower and Room in Arles. The last one is more Starry Night, but it isn't and I don't know what it's name is.

My needles have been still the last several days as pen on notebook and fingers flying on keys took over. I spent one evening with seven amazing women - poets all - who gathered at friend Phyllis's home for a salon/gabfest. It was fun with food, wine, talk, laughter and poetry. Of the seven, three have collections coming out soon while the rest of us are in various stages of manuscript manifestation. I've been to business meetings, edited stuff, and have signed on some amazing writers for the Special 20th Anniversary Edition of Chokecherries, the annual SOMOS anthology. Can't tell you who they are yet, but stay tuned.  The publication date is July and  I'll reveal names sooner.

Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.
     (Mary Oliver, first stanza "Reckless Poem")