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Language Log

Thursday, Jul. 11, 2019 - 8:06 a.m.

I finished the circuit and have begun the next. I feel like I am orbiting the sun with small cloth loops. The color transition is nearly indiscernible and I’m still not sure how much yellow I want to give it.

I bought some perfume oil from my friend’s business. I tend to be wary of buying scents online— I have had trouble with my olfactory imagination matching the descriptions on those candles I get— but she manages to make hers sound good, anyway. I won’t use it as perfume, I plan to mix it into my sugar scrubs. So it won’t be too strong. There was one I requested a sample of— not sure whether I’ll get it, it wasn’t clear— Kentucky bourbon and woodsmoke. Left to my own devices I would smell like either a tea shop or an old drunk dude. Maybe someday she’ll make one that is rose, earl grey, bourbon, and woodsmoke, and I’ll be able to smell like all of them at once, which would suit me fine.

The one I ordered was “Aziraphale”, “marshmallow-topped hot cocoa, rice, wool, crêpes, leather-bound antique books, and old, wooden bookcases.”

We shall see. I know the text is part of the aesthetic, but if it comes close, I’ll be happy.

Yesterday was our 15 year anniversary. We made jokes about fleeing the venue had we known what our family would be like. We ate good pizza in a loud restaurant and E fell asleep sitting up. No one fought.

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