Smells Like Grandma

Our son and daughter-in-law bought a new living room set.  My husband and I liked their old set more than our own, so we bought theirs and sold our set to our daughter and her family.

I overheard  our daughter-in-law compliment our daughter regarding how nice our old furniture looks in their home.  Our daughter smiled and said, “Yeah, ‘Katie’ says it smells like Grandma.”

I ran to open their four-seasons porch and sniffed with all of my might.

Oh, no! I have my own smell?

My daughter laughed.  “Yeah, Mom, everybody has a smell.”

Some of my most embarrassing moments involved aromas, but I didn’t know they imbedded into my couch.

My mind wandered to the time we were standing in a crowded line at the movie theatre.  An alarmingly loud noise came out of the backside of an elderly lady.  The crowd parted like she was Moses at the Red Sea, but the woman remained steadfast and expressionless. I remembered thinking, “If we play poker, I want her on my team.”

A younger lady, standing by the woman, calmed the collective shock and awe by laughing.  “Sorry,” she apologized, “Grandma’s hard of hearing. She probably thought that was silent.”

So, back to real time, I asked my husband to stand across the kitchen for a hearing test.  He jerked my chain by mouthing, “PEE YEW” and “who stinks?”.

Then, the scent of a woman permeated my nose memory–unfortunately, that of an odiferous gradeschool teacher.  She definitely had her own smell. She also balanced textbooks on her bountiful bust and said “pee can”  instead of “pecan”.  Somehow these facts seemed intertwined. I shuddered.

I don’t deserve my own smell.  I use unscented everything because my husband will go into sneezing convulsions–like that time I tried to sneak Sweet Pea Bath and Body lotion into the house and he opened all of the doors and windows to relieve his headache–during a snowstorm.  Anything my grandchild smells is the real deal–the real me.


So, what can I do so my smell doesn’t haunt my grandchildren’s olfactory memory forever?

It may be too late.  But here’s my last ditch Stamp-Out-Smelly-Grandma-Memories plan of action–unless you have a better idea.

I will:

  1. brush my tongue.  That’s what they do in nursing homes and at dog kennels.
  2. use the deodorant.
  3. use Depends during special occasions when I know I might laugh too hard.
  4. step away from the couch during any questionable intestinal activity.  If fact, I’ll go outside.  Any Grandma smells will be blamed on the neighbor’s dog.
  5. dab a little vanilla behind my ears for that fresh-baked smell. (Hey, it worked when we sold our last house.  And that’s when we still owned our Smelly Grandma  furniture.)

At least I’m evolving.  I used to Smell like Teen Spirit.  Have you smelled teen spirit?  It will give you a headache–fast.

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