SO I had to run to Target today. OK, not really. I just wanted to.

I wanted that Lime Icee, darnit, and I was gonna get one. I made up some lame excuse to my wife about picking up some medicine or some other such nonsense, and then hopped in my car and drove to . . . THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN (dun dun dun).

And there, at the snack bar, in all its pristine red, white, and blue glory was the ICEE MACHINE, with four flavors gleaming under the florescent glare of the fixtures above. Only one flavor caught my eye – Sublime.


Now, two things threw me off my game a little bit.

Number one, the Icee that I remember was just called LIME, nothing fancy or hoity-toity (yes, that is how you spell it. I Googled it). This was Sublime. Could there be a difference? Just what did the sub add to my lime?

But it did appear to be the right color, and I had gone to far to turn back, now.


Numero dose, the stupid flashing red defrost light was on.

I hate that light.

Many a possible refreshing, frosty Icee encounter has been thawed due to the annoyance of there being absolutely no schedule by which these lights appear.

Don’t you think it would make sense to say that, oh, I don’t know, maybe every afternoon at 4:23 on the dot, we will defrost this machine, so don’t come around here expecting an Icee at 4:24, bub, these things take 25 minutes or more to go through their cycle?

Instead, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason that these things decide to defrost. I have asked every Icee clerk in town to tell me when their machine would defrost. Do you know how many were able to tell me?

That’s right. None. Zero. Natta.


Of course, this time, my enrapture of finding my lost childhood summer love impaired my vision. I decided to go for it, anyway. . .

Which is why I ended up with a foamy soup in my cup, a sticky arm, and a mop in my hand, cleaning Target’s snack bar floor for free.

Twenty minutes later, the red light finally went off.



With a trembling hand I lifted the plastic red straw to my mouth.

I took a deep breath, and a light sip.

The sensation of cold and sweet lept onto my pallet like a really sweet, really cold thing that leaps. As the taste of limeĀ filled me to the brim, Icouldn’t help but ask myself if this flavor had tasted so creamy and delicious eight years ago. The answer was: heck freakin’ yes!

Thank you, Target.

See you tomorrow.

Ah! The Smell of Summer . . .

It now being officially summer, I want my office to smell like summer. In the past, nothing said summer like the smell of Yankee Candle Green Grass candles.

Just look at that candle. Go on, I’ll wait. Do you see the amazing color of green, the subtle simplicity of the blue sky label? You just feel spring and summer when you look at this jar, don’t you? I know you do.

These little beauties came out somewhere around 2001, and it was love at first sniff. How do I describe the aroma?

It is the smell of the color, GREEN.

It smells just like your neighbor, Tom, mowed his yard on a Saturday morning – not too early so that you have had a nice rest and are not ticked by his thoughtless mower revving at 6:30 on a May morning, for cryin’ out loud! – and your windows are open letting in the smell of the freshly clipped fescue.

Yep, it smells like that, only someone dumped a pound-sized bag of sugar in to the clippings and mixed it with a stainless steel hand mixer that they bought at Walmart for $29.92 (http://www.walmart.com/ip/GE-6-Speed-Stainless-Steel-Hand-Mixer-with-Case/16913475).

So with an aroma like that, you can imagine my disappointment when Yankee decided to discontinue my favorite spring/summer scent. It’s like the little Yankee elves, who magically craft the candles, decided to snuff the hopes and dreams of a Midwest kid who only wants to sniff a bit of summer.

For the past few years, my spring and summer have been a bit less aromatic.

I have tried to find suitable alternatives. The closes I could find was this:


How does the saying go? Close, but no cigar. You can tell, just by the color, that this in not in the same ballpark. It does smell a bit like grass. It is decent, has a nice aromatic bouquet, but is definitely the poor man’s substitute.

One of the ways I gauge the quality of this candle is by my nose’s reaction. You see, the Yankee variety was so realistic, that my allergy to fresh grass would sometimes kick in and I would have to go blow the candle out before it melted the little puddle of wax on top, thus making all my candles burn unevenly and forcing me to buy a candle warmer to melt all the left over wax after the wick had tunneled into a wormhole of green.

This candle never did that for (to) me. Still, when I needed a nostalgic nasal boost, it would do in a pinch, but it was never the same.

So then I thought that perhaps I would find a suitable substitute. Not necessarily the same scent, but maybe something to take it’s place.

I found this:


Now this smells awesome. It is definitely no Green Grass, but I highly recommend it. It is not nearly as feminine as you might guess from the title. It has a bit of fruit, a bit of sass, and the closest thing I relate the smell to is some kind of beverage.

Mind you, I am not sure what beverage it smells like, but the smell that permeates my office is definitely beverage-like in nature.

In case you are wondering why everything in the above picture looks like it was taken in a trashed trailer, it is because of the one danger that is present with this candle. Yes, there is a warning associated with Home Scents Paradise Flower.

That warning is that it did not like my candle warmer. In fact, you might say that the reaction was EXPLOSIVE. That’s right, the candle exploded all over my desk and my Fabreze Scent Story.


So that did not exactly go as planned, and now I have hot wax to clean up. But never fear, connoisseurs of scent. As searching the web today, I found this:

Like a super hero to the rescue, Yankee Candle has decided to resurrect the Green Grass candle, AND it’s on sale!!!

Happy Day!!!