It's A Gas

I have found out rather recently, it's the little things that make a marriage what it is.  A bond that is intimate and unique, no matter what the circumstances, no matter who is right or wrong, no matter how embarrassing a situation is, no matter who is stinkier.  As mere newlyweds by some standards (4.5 years), bonding can be a prolonged and exasperating experience.  In our case, one such challenge was confronted quite quickly.  Odoriferousness .  Before I was married, I recognized all my personal aromas and accepted them.  Hey, that was me.  Now, living in a house with other living bodies, I've realized that I had to accept and breathe and live with various funk.  I have had to develop a strong tolerance to the peculiar nuances infiltrating our household and beyond.  The following is a list I've compiled of some of the more rank and foul smells I have encountered and their accompanying guilty parties.

One Teenage Boy
Socks.  Lacrosse, soccer, basketball, skateboarding, snowboarding,camping, etc.  How many pair does he really need?  They lay everywhere that you happen to be.  And most often only one.  These singular socks left in our living room has turned it into a "I Smell Dead People" room.  Our cat usually conducts a lick-bite-roll-fling session with one of these babies before going outside for some fresh air.  Probably to cough up a cotton/hair ball.  Recently, for about a week, I had a weird, unsettling smell in my truck.  I checked out the obvious places : under the seats, in the seats, around the seats, under the floor mats.  Nothing.  I had thought maybe a skunk crawled up into my engine and was slow-baking.  Finally, I took it in to a mechanic to see if he could find the source.  I needed to get something out of the glove box and, lo and behold, out of it escaped the most putrid, disgusting, primordial cloud.  One greenish-gray, solo sock, which had completely morphed into a hardened, fibrous pancake.  I need to order a new glovey.  Reminds me of the Seinfeld show about the funk in his car that wouldn't go away.

One Teenage Girl
I am more in-tune with boy/man ju-ju.  I have no idea why she smells the way she does.  You'll have to ask Mom.

One 10 year-old Girl
See above.

One 10 year-old Dog
A combo of interesting and nauseating stenches.  A little canned beef (ya, right) chunks in some liquified/gelatinous goop or a chicken (ya, right)  treat that smells and/or probably tastes like week-old tuna that was left out in the sun.  Even the flies stay away.  Though not a garbage eater, she will lap-chew-crush-chomp anything that is nearly edible or looks even remotely edible.  Maybe a little trip to the cat litter buffet.  Rolling around outside in whatever they roll around on is another hit on the nasal passages.  Can we get a hose over here?

One 5 year-old Cat
Open a can of gizzards and liver pate and watch her twitch in euphoria.  And that cat box.  I can't put enough absorbent crystals or odor-crushing substance down.  It's enough to curl my eyebrows.  And of course, the forgotten, opened can of food underneath a credenza that is now maggotized.  Yummy.

That brings us to The Wife and myself.  I have to say, right off the bat, she can bring the tang.  The girl's got game.  And she admits it.  Just ask her.  The term "gassy lassie" doesn't refer lovingly to the TV Lassie when she saved Billy down in that gas tanker.  Oh no.  When The Wife says : "I'm a gassy lassie tonight", the translation is : one of us had better sleep elsewhere.  Just the other night, I remember coming in from a cooling, refreshing, light rain where my nostrils have expanded, sucking in as much freshness as possible, when I ran into a wall of gross proportions.  I looked at the soles of my shoes.  I looked at the dog.  I looked at the boy.  I didn't even consider the girls.  There is no way that could come from them.  I looked at The Wife.  Her sour smile, a slight twinkle in her eyes through a vaporous haze and that innocent look told me the story.  I rushed around looking for every book of matches and candles I could muster.  Oh yes, she brought her 'A' wind that time.  Epic.

Another womanly story is in order here.  This one's about my Mom.  Yes, little old Mom has pulled off some stinkers in her time.  Though she never admits it.  We were in a grocery store and she was reaching for a can of fruit cocktail.  Toot.  Toot.  She then turns around and scowls at a lady next to her and shakes her head as if to say "I heard that and it wasn't me.  You should be ashamed of yourself for letting it rip in public."  Toot.

So that leaves me.  Not much to say.  By all accounts (including the pets), it seems as if I was of no particular essence at all.  Completely neutral aroma.  Is this possible?  Am I the only one that can't have odor?  Even after eating a smothered, Chicken Pollo Burrito at Sam's #3, drinking a couple cups of coffee and taking the dog on a brisk walk, my emanations were pitiful compared to the rest of our house.  Oh, you can't blame that on me.  Really, that wasn't me.  No, trust me.   I was the only one in the room?  Where did that dog go?  Where are all those socks?  This bonding experience is really working.  But, can we go outside and enjoy it more?  I feel a little disturbance is coming on.

Say What ?

Tinnitus  (Latin for "ringing") - perception of sound within the human ear in the absence of corresponding external sound

Back on June 7, 2010, I published a story. "This All Makes Perfect Sense".  It was quite silly.  However, during my research (yes, I do research), I learned a thing or two about our senses. Like, simple terms for the traditional senses.  Gustation is taste.  Tactition is touch.  But the ringing, pinging or roaring in the ears is not known by a simple term, just tinnitus.  How about hear gong?  Or ear buzz?  Lame, I know.  This is not a disease but a symptom of one or more auditory abuses.  More about that later.  I originally had a story idea concerning my own affliction of ear buzz (catchy?) in one ear but I veered off, as I normally do, and ended up with the senses story.  I wasn't going to do humor because it is serious, sometimes annoying and always a pain in the buttowski.  Until recently.

  No fewer than three items graced my vision and my funny bone got yanked.  One was an ad showing an older gentleman with graying hair, bandana, bracelets, flip-flops and an electric guitar suggesting either a past hippie, a present Viagra user or a futuristic cloned version of Keith Richards.  The headline was : "Hearing a constant BUZZING in your ears?"  Well, that sounded loud.  I didn't know if it was for the ears or eyes.  The ad goes on to tell us "it effects (they need a better editor, it's really Affects) 60 million Americans, just like you."  Kinda weird.  How did they know I played guitar?  And I'm American.  Big Bro is watching.  I guess the rest of the world is safe from hear gong.  The ad is for Ring No More and its creator "used his background in the health and wellness industry ....... to formulate a safe and effective (got it right) homeopathic solution".  Sounds like a simple wax remover.  It also lists the high risk careers.  School Teacher: (constant screaming at and from kids) Check.  Truck Driver: (get that muffler fixed) Check.  Construction Worker: (all use jackhammers) Check.  Musician/Guitarist: ( the guitar is so special) Check.  That last one hit home.  Just because I play a 2003 Fender Strat percolating through a Marshall half-stack with 1000 watts of paralyzing power in a small living room with other HOH (hard of hearing) elderlies, does that mean I damaged one ear?  I mean, why is Lefty OK?  Maybe it was the time Deep Purple's 'Smoke on the Water' tour ('73) when Ian Gillan screamed through 20' tall speakers when I just happened to be 2' away.  Or perhaps when I had that tiny Toyota pick-me-up, with no king-cab, and a Rocker-Fosgate power amp with 100+ watt box bass/tweeter combo speakers that were 2' from both ears.  Poor Righty couldn't take it.

The first article was titled "Americans Forced to Quiet Down".  This was about laws in certain states that give tickets for excessive noise.  Outside.  Once again, US of A.  I'm beginning to think that we're the only noisemakers.  In Richmond,Virginia, an ordinance makes it illegal to "cause a disturbance" that can be heard 50' away.  So much for the tobacco-pickers singing.  In New York City, dog owners can be fined if their pets bark for more than 10 minutes.  So much for that in-heat seal.  And in Sarasota, Florida, cars are impounded for blasting their radios.  So much for listening to Howard Stern when Grandma is riding shotgun.  A website, NoiseOFF  (once again, sight-impaired) has been created for people who want quieter communities (they're called cemeteries).  Come on.  If I want to yell for a taxi while walking my seal with a ghetto blaster, I will.  This is still MY COUNTRY.  Note the loud texture I gave it.

And the second article comes from the April 2010 issue of Scientific American.  Yup, another American subversive, stuffy exploitation of our country's brainiacs telling us how smart they are and we are America and we are loud 'n proud and pithy and we're not going to take it anymore and you just listen to me, bub, and I'll scream and holler all I want.  Whew, that felt good.  That wasn't too loud, was it?  Titled "Making Scents of Sounds", it claims that noises alter our scents (sense) of smell.  It says " information received through the nose can also be altered by noise".  This new research suggests "the discovery of a possible smell-sound sense, or smound."  It sounds wacky and I wish I had made it up.

Daniel Wesson, he of psychiatric research in New York (where else?) had implicated odor detection in the base of the brain by way of the olfactory (hearing, remember?) tubercle.  How fascinating.  Please, do tell more.  "No one knew if tubercle cells could discriminate odors ......"  But they can.  Now, here (hear?) is where it gets really interesting.  There have been reported perceptual interplay between smells and sounds in the mid-1800s.  In France.  And wait, there's more.  A disorder, synesthesia, is when a patient tastes colors and sees flavors.  Yikes.  Of course the applications are immense.  To "patent a device that emits a tone...." so that a dog can smell explosives.  Or, based on background noise, food smells and tastes differently, so you can see if "your saffron risotto pairs better with Beyonce or Beethoven".  Yes Muffy, pass me that Electric Prunes CD.  It goes oh so well with my Merlot.  And here (hear) I thought my story was silly.