Bacilli Baby

I had to get gasoline this morning and instead of the usual place which was taped off and under construction, I wound up at a little Stop-n-Stop run by foreigners. Not the stinky kind that wear polyester shirts because they are cheap and don't wrinkle no matter HOW many months in a row you wear them without a bath, but the helpful, friendly, English-speaking kind who burn incense to keep the stench at bay.

Ah, America. Land of the Soap and Water-based cultural expectations.

When I walked in to plunk down my hard earned cash to buy a gallon or two of gas, I could see the storeclerk liked what he saw. I may have lost it to the world of Caucasian men because I no longer look like Kate Moss or Katherine Zetta-Jones-Douglas, but to the Eurasian eye, I am one Hot Mamma.

Load-bearing hips to ensure multiple male offsprings: Check!
Excess adipose tissue for body heat and longer years of labor before starving to death: Check!
Wide back for hauling faggots of sticks from the forests of Russia: Check!
Potential for quick sale in the white slave market once legs are broken: Check!

I asked this fella if he knew where a Thai food take-out restaurant could be in the vicinity. He said, yes, he DID, if he could just think of it. So I waited. While he dilly-dallied around and asked me multiple questions that had nothing to do with Thai food! He was so OBVIOUSLY trying to score with me.

I finally got fed up and told him, "ENOUGH! Our goals are working against each other! Yours is to Hit on Me until I cave in to your charms, and Mine is to grab some inexpensive Thai-food Lunch! GoodBYE!!!!"

Even then he wouldn't let go! "But we could eat this Thai Food TOGETHER!" he screamed at me as I fled the premises.

Sigh.

But that's not what I came here to blog about! I came here to blog about the smell of the world.
Not the awful smells, but the way it smelled when you were young and you could detect the change of seasons with your nose. Remember? My cousin Skeeter-Jean was just telling me how she caught the smell of wild roses in the air and it took her back to every lazy day of summer she ever spent as a carefree lass. I realized I had recently had a similar moment. I had accidentally got water in my nose in the shower when just like magic I was transported back to a host of long-ago summer days at the lake when you could swim all day long and lay in the sun and have nary a care in the world. The smell of lake water--just that accidental snortful--would contain enough bacilli to inoculate you for the rest of your life if it didn't kill you with an ear infection first.

I told Skeeter that heaven for me might not be a Pearly Gate. It might be rising out of living lake water into the bright sun and grabbing a towel and heading to the concession stand, all the summer smells in my nose and dripping off my skin forever.