I see that hand, thank you. Thank you.
God Bless you.
You in the back, I see that hand.
God bless you.
I love Mr. Bubble.
He’s in an innertube, which admittedly is strange, but I like him.
It’s the smell, really. One wiff takes you back to Saturday night baths and wet slicked-back hair with comb streaks in it…footie pajamas that were a little too small…and an extra episode of the Cosby Show. Good stuff, people.
Bec will tell you my favorite smell is- and I’m totally serious- summer through a metal screen. There’s something about it…specifically evening when your pressed up against the window screen watching the stars come out when it’s still barely light out. Makes everything seem slow and old and easy.
Cold cold crisp winter air and cigarrete smoke takes me immediately to Germany…Garmisch, to be specific. The Abrams Hotel and walking out to the car after cleaning up from a full day of skiing…Dad with a Camel in his hand.
Mom wore WindSong for years…maybe you still do? It only smells right on you. I think I’ll start telling other women that, because the rest of those bottles should be discontinued. One wiff of that stuff on a granny while your trapped in an Oldsmobile can kill ya.
Grandpa Murray- when I knew him- always smelled like oil and car grease…like the garage. It’s a very close second for me.
I’m a big memory person. I remember everything. Clothes, words, faces…and especially smells and music.
But the music will be another day.
Have a great weekend.
Monday: “the reveal” and tips on how to survive the mall when you know where you want to go but the people won’t let you pass…