Asking the Bloggy Friends: What Smells Make You Happy?

This is one of those questions that floats around on some of those blog memes occasionally, but it's just a drive-by, along with what is in your purse, the middle name of your dog, and the last song played on your iPod.

You know smells trigger memories and emotions more than any other of our senses. Which, if you are my husband, an allergy sufferer, is unfortunate. Wait a minute. I am just now drawing this correlation. Seriously -- the man smells NOTHING. Seriously -- the man remembers NOTHING. Coincidence? I think not...

I was telling a friend that I don't like a particular food because of the way it initially smells. Odd, I know, but if it smells weird, I don't want to taste it, right? Oh -- and if you give me new food to try: I WILL sniff it. (and now, so will my daughter). Rude? Yes. Me? Yes.

So...? Friend asks, What smells DO you like? I honestly couldn't think of any, going through my Scentsy arsenal in my head. Much later the smell I LOVE came to me (it is VERY odd, because it is actually associated with meat, which I'm not a huge fan of, which sparked the initial conversation).

My father and my husband are both what they would call "grilling purists": only grill with charcoal. The way Jesus did, you know? No propane. I remember as a little girl when my dad would grill out I would go outside and play and hang out with him (I also broke my arm once, but I guess I can overlook that) and we frequently had my grandparents over. I would bask in the smell of the charcoal grill with the relaxed evening and family gathering 'round.

Now, we grill out at least twice a month as the weather allows, usually more when it's warmer. Those are my favorite days. A)it's less wear and tear on my kitchen, but the kids are thrilled with the menu selection, even the dog perks up to have Troy outside with her. It is always a precious family time. I truly LOVE to nuzzle into Troy's neck when he has been standing outside next to the grill. Totally whacko? Probably.

So I want to know about you. What smells make you happy? What smells call to mind fun family gatherings or fun times with friends? Whatever you think of... I would love to hear from you!

Memories Exploding Into My Thoughts

Today I came home from teaching the babies to swim. Since Riley was the only one at home, of course the TV was on (hate the thing, have I mentioned?). And, like any red-blooded male, he had it tuned to Mythbusters where they were, of course, trying to blow stuff up. Because, what good is Mythbusters if they aren't blowing stuff up. Better yet? When I first walked in, they were trying to blow up a bra! ("Epic fail," reported Riley.)

They put a soda can in a kiln (yes, an oven for baking pottery that bakes to thousands of degrees) to see if it would blow up. Guess what? It does! Whoo-Hoo! One for the Mythbuster exploding team!

Which, actually, took me back a little. I actually have a story in my past about exploding soda cans. I told it to Riley, and thought I would share it with you here. I'm inspired by Bob, who frequently writes things on his blog for the grandkids. And, coincidentally enough, the exploding sodas happened at Bob's parents' lake house, where I went with Bob's daughter, Julie. Julie and I were roommates for several years in college.

Have I already told this story on the blog? Oh, well... humor me.

So, as mentioned, Julie and I went out to her grandparent's lake house. I think it may have been Labor Day weekend. Not sure, but I do recall it was HOT. There was boating, there was game-playing, there was eating, there was general frivolity, but there was definitely heat.

I THINK that was the only time I went out to the lake house, so I guess we stayed a night, maybe 2? Julie's parents, Bob and Barbara, brought some "goodies" for Julie from a recent Sam's shopping trip. A few snacks, I'm sure, and a flat of Diet Cokes I definitely remember. Barbara knows how to speak love language: Diet Coke and children's books. Love it.

I don't recall at what point we put the flat of Diet Cokes in the back of Julie's little white Civic hatchback (with the "Howdy Honda" emblem on it that always made me laugh), but evidently long enough before we left for them to warm up considerably.

I guess we put them in, then loaded stuff, maybe ate lunch, said good-byes, took grandad's pulse (it was a family tradition), what-have-you... then climbed into the car for the trek over the bumpy gravel road before we would ever find pavement, sweet pavement.

We probably weren't 100 yards down the gravel road before we heard the absolute loudest POW.shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you have ever heard. We thought the bumpy road had caused Julie to blow a tire.

"Should we turn around?" (I think we did at this point).

And again. POW.shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

"What in the WORLD???"

We were SCARED to death! It sounded like someone was shooting at us. It was SO loud, we had no idea what was going on. Every time there was a pop, we would scream, but since we weren't injured, or the car wasn't broken, we were just trying to get back to the lake house at this point. We were laughing, but quite a bit rattled, too.

I think the third POW.shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. is when my head was turned enough to see the Diet Coke geyser shooting up from the hatchback making the shhhhhhhhhh sound after the POW.

Ah. It all began to make sense now. But the sound still scared the bejabbers out of us every time it went off.

So, Bob and Barbara, and maybe even Julie's brother Rob, know that they have waved us farewell, sent us on our way, we made it about 1/4 mile away, turned around (at about 15 mph) and burst out of the car screaming and laughing and "get a towel" and "oh, my word!"

They were most bumfoozled by us, I'm sure. But probably no more than usual.

So, there is a little science project for you, boys and girls: soda cans + hot car + bumpy road = GREAT explosion. You have been warned.

One Year Ago Today....

(I received this phone call one year ago today. I can't help but remember, and celebrate the moment my life COULD have changed forever, and praise God that it was not. I'm especially mindful this year of those whose lives are changed in a blink. Hug and love on your family today. SS)

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Our schedule was amazingly light. Even for summer, the kids and I have been busy rushing to teach swimming lessons that they also attend, or to basketball camp, or to summer track. This was the first day since school had been out that NONE of that was planned. I was on my way to the gym for the first time in weeks, then we would hit the pool and Ashley had youth group stuff in the evening. Nothing but F-U-N on the calendar (yes, I am one of those sickos that count going to the gym when I want as fun).

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

The call of 'Mom!' sounded not quite right just as I was on my way out the door to the gym. One look at Riley's face with the greenish tint to it let me know he really wasn't feeling well like he claimed. Was he only dehydrated (it is impossible to get that child to drink water) or was it worse? No gym for me...

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

It was the first day in at least a month that I was headache-free all day! My migraine battle has become a chronic headache battle. Headache free and at home? What shall I do? Yes, I even cleaned out some cabinets! Definitely NOT an ordinary day!

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

When it was determined that Riley would survive, I finished my cleaning area, and tried to get started on an article I have in the works. Hmmm. For some reason, no one wants to talk to me at 3:00 on a Friday afternoon. Maybe they have 'fun' on their calendar, too. I left messages all over town for folks to call me back, knowing I would need to actually call THEM back. Ashley, who had been wallowing all over the house telling me how BOOOORRRRRREEEDDDD she was, and I left to go run a few errands. Final stop? The grocery store since the cupboards were bare here.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Walking into the grocery store, my phone rang. It was an unrecognizable local number. Assuming it was a source for the article, and knowing I wasn't planning on conducting an interview in the produce section, I sent the call to voicemail. Ashley and I perused the produce for what was on sale and checked that against our list. We laughed over the twin babies that looked like little balding men. We sampled coffee cake. After about 10 minutes we made our way over to the bread aisle and I thought to check who that phone call was from.

There were 2 calls and 2 messages from that same number and a call and message from home. Hmmmm.... something must be up. I'm quick that way. I listened to the first message: "Sarah, you don't know me, but I'm with your husband. He's been in an accident. I think they are taking him to (name of hospital)." *click*

These thoughts went through my mind in the 3 seconds after I let out the involuntary audible gasp:
--Accident? But he was on his motorcycle today... that means...
--If I throw up right here, who will have to clean it up?
--Should I check out? I hate to leave all this here. But I don't have time to put it away at home...
--Should I take Ashley home? I may be at the hospital all night...
--Should I go get Riley? How bad will he look? Do the kids need to see their dad now?

Gathering my purse and recyclable bags(!) we hustled out of the store while I listened to the other two messages which, blessedly, had a little more information. Troy had been alert and able to dole out phone numbers. Riley manned the phone at home and relayed the info to me and seemed to be super great to stay put, so Ashley and I headed to the hospital.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

Pulling into a parking spot at the hospital, a rescue helicopter was directly over my car about to land about 100 yards away. Seeing one of those helicopters always makes me think of my friend Trina. Almost 9 years ago she saw the helicopter carrying her Kelly land at the same hospital, then take right back off headed to a hospital that could potentially tend to his head injuries better. Kelly didn't make it. I always wonder whose life is changing forever when I see that helicopter. Was it my turn? If Troy was alert, he wasn't in that helicopter, was he? Was he? Where had the accident been? How fast would the vehicles have been going? My stomach rolled over again. It was dubious comfort to realize no one needed to clean up the parking lot of the hospital if I threw up there...

Hurrying into the ER I asked the first staff person I could find:
"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?" "You'll have to go to registration."

"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?" "They are just finishing up his paperwork right there," she said pointing to a paramedic and another registration lady.

"I'm trying to get some information about my husband who was in a motorcycle accident?" The female paramedic who had been working on the paperwork had her back to me and turned in such a way to KEEP her back to me and walked away. HELLO??? Can you just throw me a little information? Please?

Sign papers, get looked at disapprovingly for not having my insurance card, wait as she hustle-bustles back to find out about if we can see him or what and FINALLY takes us back.

Y'all for someone who had been hit by a moving motor vehicle and lay on the road waiting for the ambulance to get there, he looked amazingly good! I was too freaked out to take an iphone pic! He was strapped to the backboard, head taped in place, the whole 9 yards, but only complaining of his ankle hurting.

I could go on and on. The gist of it is this: I'm not sure the helicopter person made it. I saw lots of family shuffle back to a corner room, dazed and weepy. I was there with my husband who was in a motorcycle wreck and was going home that night with a broken ankle. How could we possibly be so blessed?

I'm still quite weepy and humbled to wonder why, in the blink of an eye, everything went right for us when they can go so horribly wrong for some wonderful people. But our hearts and mouths are full of praise for the outcome of what could have been awful.

I didn't sleep well that night. The simple joy of the weight of his arm across my stomach -- like it is every night -- , or the warmth of his chest against my back -- like it is every night -- , or his toes reaching out for my foot -- like they do every night -- were all such simple pleasures that I am so thankful for that I didn't want to miss any of it in slumber, nor could I unwind enough to let the day go.

It was an ordinary day. Only it wasn't.

I will praise you with the harp

for your faithfulness, O my God;

I will sing praise to you with the lyre,

O Holy One of Israel.

My lips will shout for joy

when I sing praise to you—

I, whom you have redeemed.

Psalms 71:22,23