|Kornbread Jr. crazily eying my beautiful Sycamore Tree with his saw.|
I didn't need alcohol when I was a teenager. Put me around a campfire and you'd better put a leash on me. What a natural aphrodisiac! Whew! If I went to party without a boyfriend or a date, and there was a bonfire rolling smoke, I had one before I left. The minute the smell would hit my nose, my eyes would begin to glaze over, my legs would get weak, and any boy in camouflage, without a date, was destined to meet me.
I can't say I'm much different now. The weakness is still there. If I stop at a curb store during hunting season, and a pile of those men climb out of big trucks, dressed in camo, I have to sit in my vehicle with the doors locked...until they are gone...so I can't get out or else I may embarrass myself! And low and behold if there are smoke piles burning in the adjoining neighborhoods. I'd just as well not even leave my house. That loaf of bread can wait.
I have passed this love of smell onto my children. We ALL have very strong smell sensor's. Zach walked though the house with his white undershirt from last night, rammed up his nostrils, sucking up the smell as hard as he could. And I'm pretty sure I saw a little eye rolling going on. No doubt, he loves that smell as much as I do. I wonder how he feels about girls in camouflage?