(Please note, I am not actually Choctaw... but I am, in fact, part Cherokee... and a fan of For Your Consideration, wherein, John Michael Higgins' character calls attention to his Native American ancestry to the point of exploitation and immense awkwardness, seeing as how he is, quite possibly, whiter than me. And the way he enunciates "Choctaw?" Fantastic movie.)
Yesterday, my dad and I went to a plant nursery and found this amazing rose called a Don Juan. Hable de sexy plant? Si. It smells like an Italian pastry shop on a Swiss mountaintop surrounded by... roses. Aka, it smells fantastic. My rents picked one up for me today and I transplanted it to a pretty little pot on my back steps. I have one of the flowers in an Orangina bottle on my desk right now... and I smell it compulsively. I think I've smelled it at least three times since starting this entry. If I could post smells, I would. But perhaps, Man is not ready for such technology.