Over Everything Brain

Oh, 2am anxiety and your devilish sleep-stealing-ness. I’ve not had a chance to miss you yet! Perhaps try staying away for longer next time?

So freaking tired today, but still upbeat, because after this I am of for the rest of the week. The construction guys were louder than usual this morning, so I don’t anticipate being able to sleep in tomorrow or Friday, but we’ll see. I have some things on the go that I will probably do better getting up early for, anyway.

Met up with a friend for catch-up drinks last night after work. So much fun! And really nice – I feel like our conversation covered a lot of territory in a relatively short period of time, and that’s always a good thing when it happens. Hopefully we’ll do it a tad more regularly now that the weather is nicer, so that we have less catching up to do next time!

Sucks that my brain wouldn’t give me a break in the wee hours this morning, though. I hate not having a place to go to in my mind when stuff like that happens. It makes everything more difficult, really. I’ll have to figure out a new one soon, I guess. It’s like my subconscious knew the whole time when I lost my usual go-to…maybe even before I realized it myself…and now it’s toying with me at every opportunity. Lame brain.

I used to want to be some kind of detective when I grew up. Not like a cop, exactly, but more like Nancy Drew. I read a bunch of Nancy Drew as a kid. Maybe all of it. I had a library card and my mom and I would go to the library quite regularly and I’d sit on the creaky wooden floor in the children’s area and pore over all the yellow-spines of the Nancy Drew hard-covered series and try to figure out which ones I hadn’t read yet. It smelled like books in there. I still love that smell.

When I’m rich and famous and design my own house, there will be a library and a movie theatre, and I’ll collect old books so as to always have that smell when I want it, and I’ll have a big air-popper for perfect theatre-style popcorn and hire someone else to clean that mess ’cause I ain’t doing it. There will also be an observatory – perhaps in some kind of tower – and a huge plot of land for all the animals I rescue.

Indoor/outdoor pool, hot tub, sauna, small private gym that I almost never use but when I do it plays 80’s music a lot of the time.

You guys can come over and visit sometimes, and we’ll have full scale murder mysteries to play when we’re feeling particularly feisty. There will, of course, be secret passages and the like, as well.

It’ll probably be on an island (which I’ll also own), but I’ll charter various modes of transportation so you can get there easily, don’t worry.

What was I talking about? Ah yes, detectiving.

I liked all that cool mystery stuff – invisible ink, puzzles, codes, fingerprints, and a trail of clues to follow. I used to try and make up mysteries for myself to solve (this was way before the interwebs, kids, so I couldn’t just Google shit; I had to use my imagination) using old photos and documents and…just anything laying around. I liked calculator watches and anything with hidden compartments. I mean, even now, the deluxe Lost DVD complete series collection boxed set is one of the coolest things I own. I still haven’t discovered all the goodies hidden inside that beauty!

‘Cause therein lies the problem with my career as a private detective. I suck at it.

My brain just doesn’t work that way. I either don’t dig deep enough or, more often, I over-complicate everything. Over-think. Over-analyze. All the overs.

I love, love, love whodunits…wow. My maternal grandmother did, too. That just hit me. She was always reading murder mysteries and such. I never made that connection between her and I until literally just now, as I was typing “whodunits”. In my mind, I was thinking of TV shows and movies more than books, but as soon as I typed that word, I had a vivid recollection of her bookshelves and the jokes about how such a nice, tiny, elderly lady could love reading about such grisly subjects. Nothing to do with whatever I thought I was going to say. Just a sudden link between her and I.

Aww…I miss you, Nanny. ❤

I’m sorry about the stuff I lost. I know you know that, but I also know you know that knowing you know doesn’t make me less sorry.

Anyway. Mysteries. I love immersing myself in them; suck at solving them. That’s kind of why I like the TV series Motive so much, too. It tells you who the victim and killer are right at the beginning, and then it’s all about learning the how and, most importantly, the why. Also, I’m not sure I could love actress Kristin Lehman more than I do already, but you never know. I guess anything is possible.

As I got older and ran out of classic Nancy Drew to read, I spent some time with The Three Investigators, though only in book form. I of course watched Pamela Sue Martin as the girl detective as much as possible…and I think I still have a book at home called Susan Super Sleuth, now that I think about it…Sue is such a good detective name, and yet…I fail. At any rate, I’ve hosted a couple of boxed murder mysteries in my day, and was blessed to have friends get completely into their roles each time. I loooooved all the Carmen Sandiego games, both on the computer and that TV game show thingy. I really want to check out some of the city’s escape rooms someday, too, though I will probably suck at those, too. The brain, the braaaain! The over everything braaaaain.

So long as there aren’t actual lives on the line, or anything, though, puzzling through various types of mysteries is really very fun for me. Be it a book, TV show, film, or something more personally and/or physically involving like murder mystery dinners or escape room puzzles – even games like Clue or those insane word puzzles that I always have to draw a chart for in order to figure out. I love all that stuff, even as I fail at it most of the time. It’s the puzzle, the questions, the awesome gadgets (I love gadgets), and that rare sense of utter victory when you actually figure it out without being told.

I guess that might be part of what makes me a good detective at my job, too. Even with this new system in place, the things I can do can’t really be taught. It’s kind of impressive. My talent in that area only exists here and holds no value in the real world, of course, but at least it exists. I’m feel accomplished – extremely gratified – when I’ve solved one of our little mysteries and sorted everything out.

Then I usually write a lengthy email to document and share my own brilliance, but that usually falls a bit flat. Nevertheless – I know when I rocked something, and I know when I’m one of the only people who could.

In other news, I’ve lost just over 15lbs in just under 4 months, and that ain’t bad. It at least explains why it seemed so much faster than picture memories on Facebook would have me believe.

So that’s good.

Edited to add: I just found this. OMG. The 8-year-old me is squeeing her 8-year-old squee.

Sense of Smell

Super nice out today, so I took Brody for an extra long walk.  He was so happy, trotting along, sniffing everything he could get at.  He was especially glad to not have to wear his coat or boots, I think!

Along the way, we caught the scent of woodsmoke.  A ton of houses in my area have fireplaces, and I think the smell of wood burning might be one of my favourite scents ever.  It’s different from other things burning – like toast – and is instead a warm, comforting scent that, for me, stirs up happy memories.

Are there scented candles that smell like wood-burning stoves or campfires or anything like that?  Because there should be.

Smell is one of our most powerful senses, and yet is quite often overlooked.  It’s linked very strongly to memory, and also to taste, as evidenced when one has a cold, for example.

I remember when I was quitting smoking, I was told I’d develop a greater sense of taste and smell fairly quickly.  Unfortunately for me, it was still kind of spring time, and everything I smelled was bad.  What a waste of a returning scent.

Some smells make me hungry, even if I’ve just eaten.  Bacon, bread baking, vanilla/cookies, pretty much anything on a barbecue.  Vinegar makes me want fries.  I guess in some way the scent of most foods make me hungry, but there are definitely a few that are tough to ignore.

I doubt I can even name the majority of smells that unlock memories for me.  Not all of the memories are good, either.  And some keep changing.  Like lilies will always make me think of Alysia now, if for no other reason than that we all wore them to her celebration of life, and they were everywhere that day.  Wood burning reminds me of being at Grandpa and Grandma’s, mostly.  Pies baking reminds me of my mom baking every weekend when I was young.

See now I want pie.  Where was I?

Certain perfumes and colognes of course.  What was that one all the guys were bathing in back in the 80’s?  Brut?

Some scents I don’t like still hold good memories.  Like, I don’t love the smell of mittens, toques, socks and/or those boot liner things Grandpa used to wear drying – and burning – by the wood stove or the heaters at home, but I do love the memories associated with having played in the snow and finally coming inside, out of breath, our cheeks flushed and our eyes shining with excitement.  I don’t love wet dog smell, but I adore dogs, especially happy ones who’ve just gotten soaked from playing out in the rain or a lake or what-have-you.  I don’t really love the smell of fresh-tilled dirt, but I do sort of love that it smells like life.  And I love the smell of fresh-cut grass, yet not when it gets rained on.  Wet cut grass smells groddy.

Sometimes it goes the other way, too.  I don’t even drink coffee, yet lI love the scent of it percolating.

Naturally, there are also a bazillion smells that I don’t like , nor do I like what caused them, nor do I like memories they may or may not stir up.

For example, liver.  Keep that crud away from me!

As Brody and I walk along, and I watch him sniffing away, I’m simultaneously awed by how much better a dog’s sense of smell is than ours will ever be, and also glad that mine isn’t that good, because there’s a lot of scents I could really do without as it is.  Imagine, though, what it would be like – for our palette to recognize even more flavours, for our memories to be even sharper at the re-introduction of a particular scent even years later.  I wonder if our minds would continue to store all of that information, or if it would let it go again, just as easily as we took it in?

I wonder if Hudson the polar bear would still remember me by my scent, were he to see me now?