ghosts...

As I sit at my desk, taking a caffeine infusion break, enjoying the aroma of the meyer (sp?) lemons a thoughtful co-worker brought in, and listening to "Rock Lobster" the ghosts of days past come and catch in my hair.

It's the ghosts of smells that waft memories into our brains. Like the smell of Gloria Vanderbilt (before being sold at Long's) taking me right back to 7th grade. Hearing a particular showtune bringing memories of greasepaint and aquanet and one of the best flirtations ever and breaking a foot or a toe or throwing out my back during a strenuous back bend. It's the long ago feel of a painful sunburn confirming the certainty that I want to move somewhere that's foggy, all the time. Even the sight of certain colors of eyeshadow will remind me of times spend dancing my a** off at one of my favorite clubs. Or even the sight of someone's name will slam into me from seven months away. OUCH.

But then, these are only memories, and don't have the teeth or the sickly sweetness which become such a danger to our health and balance and happiness. Fortunately there are always new memories to make.

And I'm blonde again - with slight "ghosts" of the darker pink - which have mercifully turned to light apricot...