I Smell.

I have a huge honkin' nose. Not the long, elegant kind either. Nope, no ski-slopes here. I have one of those round, pudgy noses that resembles the GE lightbulb. If Karl Malden and Ginger from Gilligan's Island made a baby, it'd look like me.






Yup, that's me in a nutshell. Glamorous ain't it? It's probably just as well; I'm vain as it is already. If I had a pretty nose I'd be unbearable.

I've always detested 'Bulby', but besides keeping me humble (ha!), it turns out my honker has another, newfound purpose. If you guessed my crater nostrils are really good for trapping wine molecules, then ding! ding! ding! You win a prize (not really)!

My rudimentary research (me surfing the internet, drinking coffee and Bailey's instead of going to work) shows that our sense of smell is far more acute than our other senses. And women, it seems, can detect odours in smaller concentrations than men. My husband jokes that I can smell through time; I can detect dirty diapers and dog poops on the carpet before they even happen. I no longer have children in diapers (wahoo!), but I do have the joy of living with a farty Boxer named Jimmy, who fuels his butt-tank by doing things like eating a dozen butter tarts at a time (he's the ultimate food scavenger). Is it any wonder I shove my nose into a wine glass at any given opportunity?

I've threatened in previous posts to give my nose a workout, so today I'm going for it. I've been sticking my nose in all sorts of interesting things (get your mind out of the gutter). Things like hay and leaves, see?




I accidentally snorted cilantro up my nose (achoo!). I huffed chopped onion at dinner, to the bewilderment of my son. I practically got a grape tomato stuck up there. Coriander, I learned, smells like pickles. Fresh basil smells a little bit like licorice. Timothy hay smells really sweet (no wonder the guinea pigs love it.). And while I give my nose a major workout, I'm trying to peg the different scents by visualizing the thing that I'm smelling, so I won't struggle for the right word when I'm trying to describe wine.

While Bulby and I do our homework, please enjoy this vintage commercial of Ginger selling gasoline:



'Til next time,

Barb