Scratch and Sniff Memories
Seriously - I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried...
Create ten all-new funny scratch and sniff stickers. Describe the image and smell.
Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Think of the thing that makes you smile when you smell it. What was is? Our senses are an amazing part of our human make-up aren't they? But the sense of smell - it's different. The olfactory sense connects with our memory, and can create a picture for us to see, and feel our feels, and hear things we've stored. I once worked with a man who had lost his sense of smell, and in that, lost his sense of taste. I was immediately saddened for him. What a terrible thing to not be able to smell... Think of all the things you'd miss. When I sat down to write this, I had actually misread the topic entirely - more than once. I entirely missed the word "funny", and I sat, connecting myself to all the things that I would have missed if I lost my sense of smell.
My mother's perfume. The one in the red bottle my father bought for her for Christmas. I always loved the way she smelled when she wore it. Soft, hypnotic, beautiful.
The smell of my father's cologne after he shaved. Sometimes he'd miss some of the shaving cream on his neck, just by his ear, and I'd reach up to wipe it, and the fresh smell of cologne would fill my nose as I took a big, deep breath. That's what strength smells like. I smell the same smell now when my love is shaving.
The smell of mom ironing. I was thinking specifically of when she ironed the collar of my dad's dress shirts. The steam that was filled with left over after shave and the way she closed her eyes to smell it while she ironed. I loved to watch her iron (despite that I thought she was nuts for spending so much time ironing things like jeans and hankerchiefs. Weirdo.), and I loved the smell of the room when she ironed. Clean, steamy, perfection.
Toast...ohmuhgosh toast. It is the ultimate smell of comfort. I remember coming home from school famished, knowing supper was at least an hour or more away. I'd pop a couple pieces of white bread in the toaster (like there was any other kind back then!), and slather it with butter, making sure to do it while the bread was still hot enough to melt it all. I can feel the texture biting into it even. I parked myself in front of the TV, and ate toast and watched Facts Of Life until my mom got home.
Puppy breath. Yes, puppy breath. I love it. I love everything that comes with it. Floppy ears, excited affection, wagging tails... the joy. Oh the joy. The brand new, everything is a new experience, I'm so excited to see you, play with me, love me, joy.
Grandma's hair. Yep - it's okay if you call me a weirdo. She used to stay up until eleven o'clock at night pin curling her hair. And in the morning, she'd take it out, and comb it through into her own little old lady white afro. And when I'd hug her, no matter the time of day, I could smell the shampoo she'd used the day before, the sprtiz of hairspray she it kept it in tact with, and laughter. Did you know you could smell laughter? When she died, in the pocket of her sweater that my mom brought me from her closet, was a scarf. She used to tie it around her curls when she'd go out to Meadowlark Mall. To this day, it still smells like her, and I cry every time I bury my face in it.
Mr. Sketch markers. I remember being at my cousin's house for Christmas one year, and we got to color with her Mr. Sketch markers. I was so jealous. Mr. Sketch markers were way to expensive then. Heck, we rarely even got markers. We had pencil crayons at home, and the 12 pack of new markers we got were strictly for school - and they better last the whole year. I love the smell of the brown cinnamon marker. All the bears I ever colored that day were cinnamon brown. I bought my kids a new set of Mr. Sketch markers every year for school, and kept the old ones at home. To this day, with kids that are 16 and 18, I have at least two full sets of functional, gloriously smelly markers.
You see, this was a hard a project for me. To think of scratch and sniff as being funny, for one, and two, to write something funny about a sense that brings me so much joy! I don't really recall "funny" when I think of scratch and sniff stickers. As a kid, I remember getting a grape scratch and sniff sticker on project or test of some sort. I tore if off the paper and kept it in my special photo album for years. I loved the smell of it. Who knew success smelled like synthetic grape scent on sticky paper? With things like autumn leaves, and clean babies, freshly bathed, lotioned and ready for bed in fuzzy onzies, vanilla hazelnut coffee waiting for me in the pot downstairs, truck shops and home made bread, why would I waste time coming up with funny things?
I once had a girlfriend that had gone out shopping and picked up a candle. When she smelled it, she said, out loud, "oh my gosh! This candle smells just like Jennifer!". Now isn't that glorious that a candle smelled just like a memory of me?
Create ten all-new funny scratch and sniff stickers. Describe the image and smell.
Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Think of the thing that makes you smile when you smell it. What was is? Our senses are an amazing part of our human make-up aren't they? But the sense of smell - it's different. The olfactory sense connects with our memory, and can create a picture for us to see, and feel our feels, and hear things we've stored. I once worked with a man who had lost his sense of smell, and in that, lost his sense of taste. I was immediately saddened for him. What a terrible thing to not be able to smell... Think of all the things you'd miss. When I sat down to write this, I had actually misread the topic entirely - more than once. I entirely missed the word "funny", and I sat, connecting myself to all the things that I would have missed if I lost my sense of smell.
My mother's perfume. The one in the red bottle my father bought for her for Christmas. I always loved the way she smelled when she wore it. Soft, hypnotic, beautiful.
The smell of my father's cologne after he shaved. Sometimes he'd miss some of the shaving cream on his neck, just by his ear, and I'd reach up to wipe it, and the fresh smell of cologne would fill my nose as I took a big, deep breath. That's what strength smells like. I smell the same smell now when my love is shaving.
The smell of mom ironing. I was thinking specifically of when she ironed the collar of my dad's dress shirts. The steam that was filled with left over after shave and the way she closed her eyes to smell it while she ironed. I loved to watch her iron (despite that I thought she was nuts for spending so much time ironing things like jeans and hankerchiefs. Weirdo.), and I loved the smell of the room when she ironed. Clean, steamy, perfection.
Toast...ohmuhgosh toast. It is the ultimate smell of comfort. I remember coming home from school famished, knowing supper was at least an hour or more away. I'd pop a couple pieces of white bread in the toaster (like there was any other kind back then!), and slather it with butter, making sure to do it while the bread was still hot enough to melt it all. I can feel the texture biting into it even. I parked myself in front of the TV, and ate toast and watched Facts Of Life until my mom got home.
Puppy breath. Yes, puppy breath. I love it. I love everything that comes with it. Floppy ears, excited affection, wagging tails... the joy. Oh the joy. The brand new, everything is a new experience, I'm so excited to see you, play with me, love me, joy.
Grandma's hair. Yep - it's okay if you call me a weirdo. She used to stay up until eleven o'clock at night pin curling her hair. And in the morning, she'd take it out, and comb it through into her own little old lady white afro. And when I'd hug her, no matter the time of day, I could smell the shampoo she'd used the day before, the sprtiz of hairspray she it kept it in tact with, and laughter. Did you know you could smell laughter? When she died, in the pocket of her sweater that my mom brought me from her closet, was a scarf. She used to tie it around her curls when she'd go out to Meadowlark Mall. To this day, it still smells like her, and I cry every time I bury my face in it.
Mr. Sketch markers. I remember being at my cousin's house for Christmas one year, and we got to color with her Mr. Sketch markers. I was so jealous. Mr. Sketch markers were way to expensive then. Heck, we rarely even got markers. We had pencil crayons at home, and the 12 pack of new markers we got were strictly for school - and they better last the whole year. I love the smell of the brown cinnamon marker. All the bears I ever colored that day were cinnamon brown. I bought my kids a new set of Mr. Sketch markers every year for school, and kept the old ones at home. To this day, with kids that are 16 and 18, I have at least two full sets of functional, gloriously smelly markers.
You see, this was a hard a project for me. To think of scratch and sniff as being funny, for one, and two, to write something funny about a sense that brings me so much joy! I don't really recall "funny" when I think of scratch and sniff stickers. As a kid, I remember getting a grape scratch and sniff sticker on project or test of some sort. I tore if off the paper and kept it in my special photo album for years. I loved the smell of it. Who knew success smelled like synthetic grape scent on sticky paper? With things like autumn leaves, and clean babies, freshly bathed, lotioned and ready for bed in fuzzy onzies, vanilla hazelnut coffee waiting for me in the pot downstairs, truck shops and home made bread, why would I waste time coming up with funny things?
I once had a girlfriend that had gone out shopping and picked up a candle. When she smelled it, she said, out loud, "oh my gosh! This candle smells just like Jennifer!". Now isn't that glorious that a candle smelled just like a memory of me?
Comments
Post a Comment