Fresh Air

Awhile back, Brian took H to the car wash (a good guy-thing to do, right?). They got the super duper car wash. The one that included a "free" air freshener. H picked strawberry. It was fine. But, I'm not kidding, he's been talking about his second choice ever since ... black ice. Every time we see a taxi cab with an air freshener, he looks to see if it's black ice. If he sees black ice hanging from a car, he shouts "black ice, black ice." He keeps saying how he really wonders what black ice smells like. Brian surprised him last weekend and picked up a 3-pack of what else, but ... black ice.

W. O. W.

Let's just say, even though we have been airing out the car in the garage for a week, it still smells like we are on our way to a disco with 20 European men who have just sprayed on some cologne. And I have nothing against European men ... believe you me ... but the smell? One European man is fine. Nice, even. But 20 in a tiny hatchback car? Overwhelming.