Feta Face

Our home is filled with smells. Candles, baking cookies in the winter, maybe a nice dinner in the crock pot.
And the smell of my boys. Of course by boys I mean my redneck husband and our son. My son refuses to wear socks with his new "big boy" shoes. He picked them out himself, and has decided it's a fashion statement to either wear just one sock, or none.
I love the shoes. They're skater shoes with a skull and cross-bones on the toe. Very grown up. And so is the smell. Wearing no socks is not a good thing for a boy, apparently. We were driving in the car the other day when he kicked off his shoes. I seriously almost fainted. Jasen didn't even notice the smell, and I'm driving with my head out the window like the neighbor's dog.
I shouldn't have been shocked. He takes after his father. Not that my husband has stinky feet. In fact, he has the softest, best-smelling feet ever. It's just not fair that a man has such silky feet. But when he eats butter, it's a different story.
My husband could grown a full beard at age 14. I kid you not. I took him to my junior prom and people called him Grisly Adams. The man has hair on every inch of his body. Now he has a goatee.
Butter and goatees do not mix. When they do mix, it creates a smell just like that of feta cheese. I know this, because my husband gets what we call "feta face" after eating artichokes dipped in butter, buttered corn, basically anything that would allow butter to get on his hair.
We coined the term a few years ago when we were newly married. He'd never tried artichokes, and I love them. We had a great night, and snuggled in on the couch for some kissy-face. And then we smelled it. I was scared it was me, he was scared it was him. We ignored it for a few minutes, but just couldn't stand it. Both of us blurted out in unison "WTF is that SMELL?" He smelled my hair, I smelled his shirt. We smelled everything around the couch. We couldn't figure it out. Until we kissed again. It was his goatee. His friggin goatee smelled like feta cheese.
Today we have found no remedy for feta face. Dove, Pantene, rubbing alcohol. Nothing washes or strips the smell away. And it's only real butter that does it. If we use a spread, feta face doesn't show himself. So no butter will ever find itself on an artichoke, corn or any other food that could cover his hair. And if my redneck husband does decide to indulge in that wonderful buttery dip, my lips are off limits. Feta Face is not someone I'm big on making out with.