Super Smeller

I’ve always known I have a keen sense of smell. In college I could smell when someone was doing forbidden eating in the college lab from a room away. I could smell a peanut butter sandwich at 20 yards. And some of my classmates, who will say were “fragrant”, made it difficult to do assignments.

The sense of smell has increased greatly as I have aged. It sharpened greatly during pregnancy, and returned to its normal keenness after I delivered. So I know that hormones affect it greatly.

When I caught COVID and lost my sense of smell it was just downright freaky. Nothing smelled at all, and this was something I had never encountered in my life. I was glad when the sense returned just because it was so unsettling.

Now that I’m another phase of hormone shifting, I find that the sense of smell has increased as well.

Last weekend I was at the mall. There was a man walking 15 feet from me, and I thought at first he had doused himself in cologne. I didn’t mind because it was a nice cologne. But when I passed him at the front of the store and I could still smell it when I was far away from him I thought it strange.

Then I was at the entrance to the mall, a city block from the food court. And the smell of fried food hit me hard.

Some very strong smelling (nice) handcream on my hands I was able to get my errand done. And then I got out of there.

I really hope that this ends soon. Really soon.

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Photo by Braydon Anderson

HeebieJeebies

I decided to go to the library one Saturday afternoon to do some writing. I had a block of time and I knew the library had the distraction-free environment I was looking for.

I went in, plugged in the laptop and put the ear buds in to block out what little noise was there.

I got about an hour and a half done when my alarm bells went off.

I glanced up just to see a man shambling through the library. He stopped about 20 feet from me and slowly started to look around. I dropped my eyes but continued to watch him through peripheral vision.

He turned toward me and stared. Then he walked by me very slowly, staring at me. He walked into the stacks at my back. At this point I turned off my earbuds.

Next I see him circumnavigate my table. I met his eyes and gave him my best ice princess vibe. He walked to the back of the library and into the computer room.

I started to work again, but I was unnerved. I saw him stand up, and he had a clear view of me through the bookshelves from the computer room. He wandered by again and then made for the exit, and left.

I thought it was over, but my concentration was shot. I moved my attention to task that was writing-adjacent. Next thing I know he came in again. This time disappeared into the stacks in front of me. I could see him watching through the gaps in the books.

At this point I started packing up. He went to the exit. I got my stuff together. I secured the bag across my back, phone in one hand, steel water bottle in the other. I went to the front of the building.

I was so unnerved that I almost asked a young man near the entrance to walk me to my car. But I saw a police car pull into the parking lot (there is a police precinct in the back of the building). I walked quickly to my car. The man didn’t follow.

I drove to the shopping center across the street and browsed through TJ Maxx in an effort to calm myself. I decided I would go to the Starbucks and finish my writing session. As I walked to the front of the building, the same man walked around the corner of the building and headed toward me.

I did a 360 and made for my car.

I drove to the Panera several miles away, taking a route through a neighborhood.

I sat with a clear view of the door, close to the secondary exit.

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My thought is this:

Why, in this day and age, are women still being stalked?

Why, in this day and age, are women still having to be hyperaware of environment and people?

Why is this still happening, and in broad daylight?

This is something the men I know have never had to consider. But it is still a thing. It is a thing women have to live with every day of their lives.

What is it going to take for women to feel safe?

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Photo by “>

When Did Everyone Become Doctors?

I had some (as yet unexplained) concerning symptoms that hit me at the beginning of December. After a trip to the emergency room where the scary stuff was ruled out, and a trip to my GP where a battery of tests was ordered, I am still dealing with the aftereffects. Some of the symptoms are still present, although getting better, and usually come out when I am tired or emotional.

Some people, when finding out about this issue, have offered suggestions that I know are done from a place of love and fear. These suggestions generally stop when my friends find that I am not ignoring things and I’m working with trained professionals.

And there are others who offer suggestions that second guess all of the trained professionals I have dealt with.

In fact, I was so not looking forward to one co-worker’s response that I actually debated telling my team. She did, in fact, respond exactly has I had foreseen, and I cut the conversation short by informing the team that I didn’t want to talk about my treatment or tests.

I was in choir not long after this, listening idly to the conversation around me. One of the other women has a daughter just over a year old. She was planning on flying cross country for the holidays. The discussion of holiday plans turned into a rather pointed discussion of what vaccines that the mother should give her daughter.

On point was the RSV vaccine. The baby is not exposed to many people (having a stay-at-home-parent) and the doctor felt that she was not at risk for contracting RSV. In addition now that she was a year older, the doctor felt she was not at risk.

This did not go over well with some of the older women in choir. I heard things like “I got the RSV vaccine. You should make sure your daughter gets it” and “Your doctor should be giving the RSV vaccine because it is dangerous to infants.”

The mother patiently (admirably) just repeated what her doctor had said, the reasons and why.

And I was left wondering why seventy-something women who were never in the medical field seem to feel they know what is best for someone else based on their (the old womens’) own current needs and situations.

Maybe they mean well. Some people do. But others just seem to give unqualified advice simply as a way to make themselves feel important.

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Photo by National Cancer Institute

The Insurance Fiasco

We’ve been with our insurance agent for 15 years. We had been with his predecessor for 5 years before that. The agent was close to our house, and was able to provide quick service.

But something changed during COVID. Our agent became less responsive, not answering messages or emails. But I put it down to the craziness of the moment.

We bought my daughter a used car in March. We had some term life coming due in August, so we went into the office to talk to the agent. We discussed the options, and told him we wanted to cancel the term when it came due because the cost was astronomical to continue it. We also told him at that time to drop the old car and put the new one on the insurance.

What a shock then, to find out the next week, that he had kept the old car, dropped my husband’s truck and added the new car.

I had to call the 800 number to get that straightened out, because once again the agent wasn’t answering my calls or emails.

The next shock was in July, when we received notice that the insurance was going to debit almost $5000 from our account for the term life continuation.

(I swear I could feel my hair turning gray at this point)

Again, the agent wasn’t answering phone calls or emails. The 800 number was helpful, reversing the charge, but told us we needed to sign papers.

I finally had enough. I contacted a friend of a friend that I knew socially. We were in the office that week, and all the papers were signed. We also reviewed all our insurance to make sure there was enough coverage.

At this point, all the policies had been switched over to the new agent.

We received an email from the old agent, telling us that he survived on commissions and his family depended on his income. He promised to be more available. And how after 15 years he felt we had a relationship, and that problems could be worked through.

Yup.

I haven’t had that much guilt tripping thrown at me since Catholic school.

Once I calmed down from the anger, then worked through the laughter, I decided that we owed the agent nothing. It was a business transaction. And if he wasn’t capable of providing us with accurate and timely service we would go somewhere we could get that.

I really wish the old agent well, and hope that he gets through whatever is going on in his life. But since I do not need more stress in my life, I am going to go with the business that does not cause me more stress.

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Photo by Vlad Deep

D*mn Virginia Beach Tourists

It had been a good weekend. We were leaving the KOA in Rodanthe NC, heading back up the barrier islands and to home. We stopped at a 7-11 because we needed something to drink.

As I was browsing the aisles, I overheard a local complaining about all the tourists, but especially those from Virginia Beach. He was loud, talking not just to the cashier, but to the other employee stocking shelves an aisle over from me.

His main complaints that these tourists (all from Virginia Beach, mind) were driving crazy all over the place, not knowing where the turns were. And they were driving up all the prices, making it so that you couldn’t afford housing or anything else, apparently.

When the man left, the cashier was loudly voicing her agreement to the other employee.

Bear in mind I am standing in plain sight of her. There is no way she couldn’t have known I was there.

I thought about throwing my stuff on the counter and leaving. But I didn’t. I walked up and said sweetly to her, “Hello from Virginia Beach.”

And she stumbled, trying to cover her tracks. I told her not to bother, that I had heard everything…and everyone. I paid and left.

The thing is, tourism is benefiting them all greatly.

When I first started visiting the Outer Banks almost 30 years ago there were few restaurants. Almost no shopping. No hospital. Definitely few convenience stores.

Because of the tourism, the Outer Banks has a full-on hospital. They have major stores like Walmart and Target. Grocery stores every few miles.

And when the hurricanes wash away parts of the roads, they are fixed or redone quickly.

All because of the tourists.

Virginia Beach has its share of tourists too. I’ve learned that if I don’t want to deal with them, I stay out of the places where they are likely to be. But I also am grateful that they bring so much to the local economy.

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Photo by Luke Porter

Anticipating Packages

One of the things that next day delivery has killed is a sense of anticipation. You order something, it shows up the next day. No questions.

But we have lost something in that immediacy. We have lost the fun of thinking about what is coming and anticipating when we will get it.

I think this anticipation heightens the pleasure in the object purchased.

Before the internet, one would order something through the mail and understand that it would be 6-8 weeks before it would be received.

I realized this recently when I had purchased a couple of things from Etsy. I didn’t know when they would ship, much less when they would arrive. I thought about them when I purchased (obviously) and then again when I received the confirmation of the order. Then again when I received the shipping email. And then they disappeared from the forefront of my mind.

So when I received the email it had arrived, I was far more excited than if I had purchased it elsewhere.

I sort of miss when it would take 6-8 weeks to ship something. I really believe the enjoyment of the purchase was heightened just because of that time of waiting.

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Photo by Leone Venter on Unsplash

Taking Away Attention

There’s been lots of talk about cancel culture.

But our choice to not support someone we don’t agree with is one of the few pieces of power we have. Companies that are horrible have always been on the receiving end of boycotts. People stop buying products until the condition is rectified.

Attention is a currency – online buys it, we pay it.

Taking away attention is the only way we can control that attention. It’s no different from boycotts.

It’s not cancel. It’s letting our currency do the talking.

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Photo by Markus Winkler

Losing the Filters

I’ve always struggled with being tactful. I’ve always favored a more direct method of communicating. But I learned early on that being blunt was not always the best way to maintain relationships – in fact, I hurt a lot of people’s feelings.

So I learned how to be tactful.

And I learned when to hold my tongue. There were many times when I decided that my opinion wasn’t worth putting out in the world unasked because it was going to hurt feelings, and probably wouldn’t change anything in the end anyway.

As I age, I find that those filters are slipping. I’ve seen it happen in other women of a certain age, and I always thought it was a result of menopause.

I don’t know if I can blame it on my hormone shifts, or just simply from not being willing to be compliant anymore. I don’t need to be the quiet good girl. I can speak up, and if others don’t like what I am saying, that’s not my problem (as long as I am respectful).

I am finding great freedom in losing the filters. And while I not be sure of the cause – be it hormonal, or just a realization that there is great freedom – I find I don’t regret it.

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Photo by kroszk@

My Work Snuggy

My client office is cold. It’s so cold that I can’t concentrate and my hands grow stiff to the point where I can’t type.

Of course the men in the office think it is perfectly fine. But the women? We’re all freezing. We all have jackets and heavy socks at our desks. But it’s not enough.

Since being cold has a major impact on my productivity, I took steps.

We’re not allowed to have space heaters or electrical devices to warm up.

So I took a further step and ordered a snuggy. A wearable blanket. It covers my entire front, including my legs and feet.

If I wear it with a jacket, I am nice and toasty.

I may get some strange looks but at least I can focus on my work and not on being cold.

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Photo by -Jeffrey-

Shopping For Books

I love bookstores. I love the smell of the paper and ink. I love the sight of rows upon rows of books. I love the feel of the crisp untouched paper and the smoothness of the bindings.

Bookstores are a place I love to go. I get entranced by all the thousands of books that have so many stories.

And I rarely go into a bookstore without buying something.

But I realized that when I go into a bookstore, it’s not about needing to buy something to read. After all, I belong to my local public library. I pay for digital access to a public library in the north of the state. I pay for Kindle Unlimited access every month. I have a bag of books jumbled together waiting to me to read them. And my Kindle library has almost a hundred unread titles that I have purchased.

I realized going to the bookstore isn’t about finding something to read. It is an expression of my desire to read more.

And the truth is, I need to find the time to read. Because I want to relax, explore the world of the books I already have.

So instead of going to the bookstore to buy books, I have decided that I will go, get a coffee, and sit for a while and read. Or even better, make myself a hot beverage and retire to the corner of my bedroom with the comfy chair and good light.

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Photo by Lapponica