2015-03-21 14.43.52 (2)

Intuition is warm.   Similarly to Amarige, and Organza it has a sweet, flowery beauty that is very 1990’s/early 2000’s and quite pretty (Estée Lauder 2000).  Intuition is also a bit sexy and sophisticated, but in a sort of carefully nuanced, intricate way.  The freesia and rose are particularly lovely…  This is the kind of nearly office freindly, super adult (almost staid really) sort of scent that can transition well from day to night.

Top notes:  green notes, bergamot, grapefruit, orange, and mandarin orange.  Middle notes:  rhododendrun, freesia, rose, and gardenia.  Base notes: amber and woody notes.  

Lil and Lex:  Part II of IV

Lex had reason to be scared, sadly.  When World War II started Lex joined the Navy and died at sea when his ship was blown up.  The shock never left my Grandma Dorothy.  She went from a bubbly young woman intent on living to something else entirely.

Actually, truth be told, I never talked with my Grandma Dorothy about any of this.  I only heard it once from my Aunt Carol…

“So she never got over him then?” I asked, as Carol and I sat by our roast beef sandwhiches at the local cafe near Grandma Dorothy’s retirement home.

“She talked about him like she still cared for him.”  Carol answered while nodding, in a somewhat evasive tone.

I looked at her while the cold, sterile gloominess of the cafe with its flourescent lighting and ugly taupe boothes was a sharp reminder of the tasteless that often is life.  And that’s when I knew Grandma Dorothy had never changed how she felt about him.  Even when she married my Grandfather, Henry.  Nothing had ever been like Lex.  I wondered for a moment why Carol didn’t want to just say that.   Then in frustration I moved my thoughts forward.  Something had to be done.  I wasn’t sure what.  Something

My Grandma Dorothy was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.  She tried to make people feel loved because she loved them.  She was an incredibly altruistic person actually…  But she was always so pensive.  One time, at church, I asked her why she was so sad.  It was Christmas Eve Mass and she usually loved Christmas Eve Mass.  She just looked at me, her gentle blue eyes filled with tears, and said, “Sometimes Christmas makes me think about people I miss, people I can’t see right now.”

“Like your mom and dad and your brother?”  I asked as carefully as possible so as to not add pain but to show that I understood.

“Well, I miss them too.  A lot.  But…”  Her eyes looked up at the stained glass windows to our left and then, she faintly smiled.  She smiled in a way that looked almost… seductive.  Yes…  She was smiling seductively at someone in her memory.  And, one doesnt’t forget such moments when your Grandma is the sort of person who never uses the word damn around children or even teenagers (like I was then), finds Madonna shocking and tasteless, attends Mass regularly and always keeps her temper, even when you pour an entire bag of flour on her still damp, just cleaned wood floor when you’re three.  You remember such things.

“Some people are important to you who aren’t in your family.”  She pauses for a second before adding solemnly, “More so…  actually.”

I was only sixteen then, but I knew what she meant.  Actually, maybe I knew what she meant because I was sixteen…

So years later, at that cafe, when Grandma Dorothy was our topic of conversation – and how could she not be, we had just moved her into the retirement home – I knew…    I knew she still loved Lex.

“How did you talk about all of this with Grandma?”

“I found her diary from the late 1930’s when I was about thirteen or so. She kept it in her bathroom by her bottle of Miss Dior…”  My mind trailed off to that drawer now.  It was a mysterious place.  There was a jar of Ponds (she had amazing skin) and a white gold locket covered in a spray of small diamonds.  The drawer smelled like cinnamon and I always wondered why.  I was a snoopy kid.

“…she caught me reading it and asked me where I had found it.”  Carol rubbed her tan arm and laughed in a casual, confident sort of way.  “She must have been worried I had read something too mature.”  Carol laughs incredulously now but in a pleasant way, commenting, “I was certainly not scandalized by anything in that diary.”  Then for a second she looked out large the window behind us, at the front of the cafe, and became more serious before adding, “She really loved him. But she never talked about their dates or anything other than that one time.”

Something had to be done…   “It was too painful…”  I say.   Carol nodded quietly…



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