The female of the species never ceases to amaze me. Here is the very latest from Ginny and her lunatic friends - aroma therapy. Jeez, I thought I had heard of everything. OK, so here is how it went. I went into the bathroom this morning and Ginny was doing her hair and smelling the glob of brown stuff wrapped up in a paper towel. You have to admit that this has all the makings of something either terminally weird or something female. Of course it was the latter. Her friend Pat (wonderful lady, Boy Scout leader, friend of the family and goofy beyond all comprehension) told her that sniffing wet tea leaves was aroma therapy and it was theraputic, or whatever. To me it just seemed screwey. Of course, who am I to complain, I like the smell of jet fuel in the morning.

We had to take one of the cars to get some locks repaired. I picked Ginny up at the locksmith, and she started putting her nose in this dang bag and breathing deeply. OK, I give up. Well, Pat had given Ginny her proprietary aroma therapy zip-lock bag with all these tea bags and scented candles. Jeez.

OK, tonight I had four students. Ginny was on her own. When I was done tutoring I went into the bedroom, and was greeted with a soft glow coming from a candle on the table by her side of the bed. Innocently, I enquire what was going on. She said it was aroma therapy with lavender. I commented that it smelled like smoke to me, which was the wrong answer. No matter what I thought, it was lavender. It was more like a campfire, but what do I know.

Well, Pat, goofy as she is, did actually respond to this whole thing with a very interesting little gift. I told her earlier this evening that to me aroma therapy would be like opening a fresh bottle of Glenmorangie. She brought a bottle of Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale as an example of aroma therapy. I shall report on the experience in a future episode. In the interim, suffice it to say that I think the feminine version of aroma therapy is just one step shy of voo doo.