: sniiiiiff : Oh yeah, that’s the stuff

Earlier today, in a meeting at work, one of my teammates was given a gift from our clients. It was a really nifty wool stadium blanket.

Another lady asked to look at it, and when it landed in her hands, she brought it to her nose and took a good deep smell.

Just writing that…I know you know that smell, right? Nothing else smells like wool.

I smiled, because I was across the table and I knew exactly what she was smelling. I thought to myself about my own memories of the smell of wool.

Usually winter, outside, snowy day in Albuquerque (the only time it would be cold enough to wear a wool sweater). That perfect storm of smells combined, wool, a snowy day, a bit of sweat and the dirt on my mittens (that got there from making a snowball to lob, offline, at my brother).

Yeah.

So then this got me thinking about the deep associations made from odors, both good and bad.

But I was thinking about good…about the smells I deeply love.

The first that immediately came to mind was leather. I mean, unless you are a PETA advocate, who doesn’t love the smell of good leather?

Just that smell can dredge up lots of happy memories.

Like…the combined smell of leather and saddle soap you get upon opening the door to a tack room. Especially when I was taking riding classes at NMSU, because that tack room had rows and rows of saddles, all smelling nice.

Or…back when we first started dating, The Good Man had this black hard-leather jacket. It’s now too big for him and I think he recently gave it away, but I can easily remember that smell. Hugging him really tight, sinking my face into the shoulder of that jacket and inhaling deeply, tattooing the scent of cute boy and leather deeply into every single cell of my being.

Yeah.

Or, or….how about the smell of a new baseball glove? So many kids will get a new glove and spend lots of time with that thing firmly over the face inhaling. Nothing like that smell.

But I seem to be stuck on leather…

What’s another good smell?

Oh, I know! So…up and down the peninsula here, they have tons of Eucalyptus trees. Early in the morning or very late at night (depending on what side of the nightclub you’re on), when you get the heavy damp fog, it makes those trees let go that very distinctive scent.

The moist, cool damp and Eucalyptus smell… when I travel somewhere else, and then come home, I always latch on to that smell first. It’s SO the Bay Area. Easily identifiable by anyone who has ever lived here.

Here’s an easy one for all the New Mexico folks…the smell of chiles roasting. Utterly identifiable…for miles. So reminiscent of home.

Summer rain on hot pavement. God I love that smell!

Sheets washed with Downy and dried on the clothesline. Haven’t done it in years, so who knows if it smells good anymore? Doesn’t matter, in my memories, it’s always fantastic. I think it helped being in NM because stuff dried really fast and didn’t pick up too much environmental yuck.

Home baked cinnamon rolls served on Christmas morning.

The soap and water smell of my husband just after he emerges from the shower. So delicious! (ok, that’s two about The Good Man, sorry!)

This is kind of funny, but how about the first time you noticed the distinctive smell of money? For me, it was after getting paid allowance for the first time with the kind of money that folded, not jingled. That dollar bill smelled like potential to me.

Aw, heck, I suppose I could go on all night this way.

I’m sure there’s some scientist who would explain how odors can make such vivid memories (like here), but I don’t need to know the science.

Right now, I’m sitting on the couch, watching a baseball game…thinking of how the yard smells on a nice July night like this. Garlic fries, hot dogs and marine layer.

Indelible.

I don’t know, call me sentimental

I blame NewMexiKen and his recent blogging about citizenship tests. I pondered on it a bit in this post too, but lately, I’ve been thinking a bit about being an American and, yes, in my post-Fourth of July haze…about being patriotic.

I still get a proud chill when the Blue Angels fly low overhead. I put my hand over my heart when they play the Star Spangled. I can recite the Pledge of Allegiance with practiced ease.

Patriotism sort of became a bad word during the previous administration, where aspersions were cast left and right about who was and was not patriotic. That made me grit my teeth.

So ok, I don’t wear it on my sleeve, but sure, I am patriotic. I own it.

When I read this article in today’s Las Cruces Sun News, I have to admit, I got a little lump in the throat proud.

A small piece, really. Just a short bit about a local boy scout troop doing a proper ceremony to dispose of soiled flags.

I don’t really know all the rules about flying the flag, but I know enough. I get testy when I see a flag flying in the rain. Or unlit in the dark. Or when it’s been whipped to shreds but still flies.

I don’t really do anything wacky about it, like the guy who tore down the Mexican flag on the UNM campus when he noticed a violation of flag protocol.

But I notice stuff and it bugs me.

It was an interesting read at the VFW site about the main code for flying a flag. I learned a little there.

Also interested to see the link to this site, a company that provides proper disposal of a flag for a fee.

Mainly, getting back to the event held in Las Cruces, I was just happy to see a new generation of kids is learning respect and both the proper way to fly, and when the time comes, dispose of, Old Glory.

Photo recycled from this blog…taken at Fort Stanton, NM

Oh thank you…

God bless the Las Cruces Sun News for running only a regular sized and tasteful headline about the media event of yesterday. You know, the one that is blowing up all over the media and crowding out all the rest of the regular and essential news?

I’m already tired of hearing about it.

*sigh*

Oh Fair New Mexico…you may serve some of the finest food in the world, but damnit, you have no taste.

I can’t even be surprised. I want to be, but I’m not.

(btw, if you don’t know Las Cruces, Telshor and Lohman is a really prime location)

From the Las Cruces Sun News:

Olive Garden? Really?

Oh man, now I’m stuck in here…

The wayback machine, that is.

After my post yesterday, I got an email from my best good friend. Turns out she was in the wayback machine yesterday too, but for a whole different reason.

Still a resident of Las Cruces, over the years, she’s given me an on site report on all the things changing in that sleepy college town. Yesterday she saw a sight that made her incredibly sad and she had to tell me about it in email.

Remember how I talked about NMSU being a land grant college?

What that meant to a business major such as me, is that if you walked down the hill toward the Ag College, you would find a big open pasture in which actual cows roamed around, grazing on the actual college campus.

With the wind from the right direction, you were reminded, frequently enough, that you did, in fact, attend an agricultural college.

Personally, I always liked that. Tied us to our roots. Kept us humble.

Once upon a time I even had to help round up a truckload of calves that were being moved to a different pasture. Those buggars had managed to break free. Tiny criminals. If you know anything about calves, you know they don’t naturally have that herding instinct yet.

It was like herding jello. Or the Tasmanian devil. Or some combo therein.

Sadly, the cows haven’t roamed the campus of NMSU for several years, and that open land went pretty much unused.

Until former university president, Michael Martin, agreed to annex that pastureland to the City of Las Cruces for the purpose of building a convention center. In exchange, the university gets money back from events hosted there.

I’d heard this was coming. My friend and I talked at length about it when I visited in February.

As of yesterday, ground has been broken. Construction is underway.

They made my best friend cry. That makes me cry.

There is some quote about not going quietly into that good night. But anymore, I’m not sure it’s worth the calorie expenditure to holler into a hurricane.

Change must happen. At the end of the day, it’s not about the memories, it’s about the dollars. As an NMSU trained businesswoman, I should know better.

Photo by Clay Mathis of NMSU. Source.