I left the warm cocoon of soft cotton sheets and small furry animals to answer nature’s call just after 4:30 AM, and managed to read another chapter in the book I’m currently enjoying, the most recent offering from Lauren Willig.

As I was padding softly back to bed, I heard the quiet jingling of dog tags, and asked Miss Cleo if she needed to go out. She did, and so I retrieved my turquoise HAPPY tank top and ancient white sweats from the floor, and slid my feet into my white chenille bath slippers, and we shuffled across the living room which was bathed in dim whitish light filtering in from the windows. Zorro trotted slowly after us, as if making sure that we were coming back inside. He was a bit bleary-eyed, and moved slowly, as if his joints were in need of lubrication. He’s ten, so arthritis isn’t outside the realm of possibilities.

Saw a dusting of white on the patio before I clicked on the outside light, and opened the sliding door. After looking out, I determined it was more than a dusting of snow, and closer akin to a frosting. Miss Cleo happily scampered across the deck, leaving a classic line of paw prints. She came back before Zorro had even arrived at the door. He stuck his nose out, and immediately turned around, giving me a long suffering sigh as if to say, “I got out of bed for this?”

“Are you sure?” I asked him in my quiet morning voice. He was, and indicated this by plodding Eeyore-like, back through the living room.

We all returned to bed, where I informed my sleeping husband, “It’s snowing.” He grunted in response. As I skinned out of the sweats and tank, and slid into bed next to him I felt the heat he was radiating, and released a soft, “Mmmm. You’re warm.” Blissfully asleep, he declined to answer.

Miss Cleo nosed under the covers, and Zorro curled against me, and I closed my eyes, but my mind was racing, so I pulled the laptop into bed with me and checked email. The result left me with a soft smile, for I’d received a Click-and-Ship notification from BPAL that my first official order was going out.

And so I am turning the light out again, and I will lay in my soft bed, and rest another couple of hours, insulated by the softly falling snow outside my window.

Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.

Okay, quiz over.
Last night, I went to bed with Count Dracula. Not the novel, and not an actual count, and no, Fuzzy wasn’t snarfing my neck or anything - he was at work til the wee hours, actually - but the perfume from - guess where? Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

I’ll review it in a moment. Meanwhile, I’ve got the name of the movie Blood and Chocolate in my head, and the phrase blood in the sea is bubbling to the surface of my consciousness again, and I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time to just write a vampire story after all. Even if it doesn’t have mermaids or sharks in it as well. I’m not sure if I’ll use the actual Dracula - I mean, he’s been done to near death.

Yes, I do mean near death. You can’t kill a vampire with a knife, after all, and one of his normal abilities is crumbling into dust. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Go read the original Bram Stoker novel again, and pay special attention to the ending.

And now the review.

Here’s the description of Count Dracula from BPAL’s website:

He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkeyland. If it be so, then was he no common man, for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the ‘land beyond the forest.’ That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as ’stregoica’ witch, ‘ordog’ and ‘pokol’ Satan and hell, and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as ‘wampyr,’ which we all understand too well. There have been from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in all good, in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest.

The essence of nobility, brutality and true Will made flesh and propelled through the eons by an ever-burning hatred: black patchouli, neroli, tonka, cinnamon, bitter clove, leather, black musk, coffin wood and fiery ginger.

In the imp: It smelled a bit like chocolate and pipe tobacco, but there’s no chocolate in it.

Wet, on skin: The clove and leather really come out on my skin. Can’t smell the cinnamon, but have read some people amp cinnamon.

Dry, on skin: The woodiness comes through, making it less sweet. It’s really a very masculine scent, but nice to wear to bed.

Overall: Just enough lingered til morning that waking I almost wondered if I’d had a fanged visitor in the night. I’d love to have Fuzzy, and every other man in my life, try this and it’s cousin Quincy Morris, as both are very cuddly, sexy, male scents.

Today was a grey day, but rather than being cold it was just on the edge of chilly - the kind of winter day when the thick cloud cover softens the light and warms the temperature, and a storm threatens at the periphery of the sky, but never quite reaches the boiling point.

It didn’t rain, but it was a lovely day anyway. Physically, I was in my studio a lot, writing about cars. Mentally, I was in a garret in Paris, or a beach house on a cliff, and the wind through the trees only enhanced the mood. Outside my bedroom window, earlier, the pool water was choppy, much like the ocean gets on such a blustery day. I amused myself pretending I was on the esplanade of a cold-water beach, and even bundled myself into a cotton blanket and took tea poolside.

The fresh air was what I needed after being sick for a week and a day, though I’m edging into wellness, finally. I’m not yet up to walking round the block - kind of need to breathe for that - but for sitting in the balmy, breezy air, and sipping spicy chai, and watching the dogs root around in the ivy-covered corners of the yard, I was fine. I sat near enough the edge of the pool that my feet were just touching the water - it was cold, but I didn’t care - and had a lovely hour of quiet, even closing my eyes at one point.

I was strongly reminded of all the times I visited the beach in winter with my mother, and all the times we sat at the yacht harbor, after walking to the end of the pier and back. For a moment, the sense memory was strong enough that I could smell sea-salt.

And speaking of scents, the one I’m wearing today is another Black Phoenix offering called Alone.

Here’s what their description says:

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

A hectic, frenzied pinpoint in desolation: booming, bleak, and dark with the horror of loneliness and reluctant solitude. Patchouli and cardamom with bright mandarin, labdanum, muguet, red sandalwood, angelica and gardenia.

.

Here’s my review:

In the Imp:
Chai tea with something darker, that’s the patchouli, and something citrussy - the mandarin.

Wet, on Skin:
Patchouli mostly, with the mandarin and generic spiciness coming through.

Dry, on Skin:
Oh, lovely cardamom, and flowers I can’t identify, and the mandarin is softening a bit, but the patchouli’s backed off, and is a sort of grounding note.

Overall:
Add this to my “I want a bottle” list, or rather I would, but this was a treat - the last third of an imp as a freebie with a forum order, and the actual scent’s discontinued.

Received an imp of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s KALI as part of a mystery pack of imps I bought on the forum. Here’s my review.

Kali, the Black One, is the fearless Goddess of Destruction, Creation, Energy [in her Shakti aspect] and Dissolution. Also named Kaliratri [Black Night] and Kalikamata [Black Earth-Mother], she is the fiercest aspect of Devi, the supreme mother goddess. Kali is a protector Goddess, the destroyer of evil spirits and guardian of the faithful. She, along with her consort Shiva, represent the unending cycle of death and birth, sexual union, creation and destruction. Kali annihilates ignorance, maintains the natural order of the world, and blesses those who strive for spiritual awareness and knowledge of true holiness with infinite tenderness and motherly love. The constant, unending Work of Creation is called the “The Play of Kali”. This perfume is a blend of the sacred blooms of cassia, hibiscus, musk rose, Himalayan wild tulip, lotus and osmanthus swirled with offertory dark chocolate, red wine, tobacco, balsam and honey. — Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

In the imp: Chocolate, pipe tobacco, and something sweet.

Wet: Oh, there’s the wine, and the sweet seems honey-ish now.

Drydown: I can’t pick out individual floral notes, but I can tell they’re there, and the chocolate and tobacco have softened a lot.

Overall: This imp had leaked a bit in the package despite being taped. As I was opening everything, I was trying to figure out that enticing smell, and it was this. I’m still brand new to bpal, but I’m thinking this will be a favorite. I really like it - it’s a very grown-up scent, but can still be either feisty or flirty