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Only I could somehow tie together a visit by the spirit of my Mom with farts that smell like brownies. It’s what I do, and here’s how I do it.
It was an evening like any other evening in our house. Milo was protecting us by barking at any little stirring outside, while my wife and I were preparing for a fun-filled evening on the couch. Suddenly the smell of brownies filled the air near our living room, drifted around the kitchen, down the hall, and I even smelled them a bit in my office. It seemed weird because we weren’t making brownies, we didn’t have any brownies, and the closest thing we had to the wonderful chocolatey goodness was this stuff called brownie brittle in the pantry. The problem? When my wife opened the pantry door there was no smell of brownies in the pantry.
Bummer, I was hoping for a surprise of homemade brownies.
With neither of us able to unearth, or unsmell, the source that was making our mouths water, my wife came up with the theory that it was the spirit of my Mom coming to visit. She recalled me telling her about my Mom making brownies, and of course I felt bad because I keep threatening to make brownies for my wife but still haven’t done so (a fact she also likes to bring up from time to time). I pooh-poohed the thought of my Mom coming to visit. In my head I was still stuck on the smell coming from the brownie brittle, or maybe it drifted in from the neighbor next door. With my wife maintaining the parental visit, and part of me wondering what my Mom would want (other than telling me to make brownies for my wife), I, of course, broadcasted the theory that I recently farted. She looked at me, “You don’t fart the smell of brownies, Hon.” I retorted, “That would be awesome, wouldn’t it?” Sadly, she is correct because I, in fact, emit the aroma of not brownies, but roses, which I would think should please her all the more. It doesn’t.
The brownie smell eventually went away, but it did make me think of my Mom a little more than I normally do. The anniversary of her death is in October, and sometimes I remember it, sometimes I don’t, especially as the years have gone by. Usually I prefer to remember her birthday because that just seems more festive, and although I’d like to proclaim that maybe I’ll make some brownies to celebrate my Mom’s life around the time of her death, we’ll have to wait and see.
But back to farts. There are no brownies here.
While both my wife and I agree that my farts don’t smell like brownies, I still contend they smell like roses. She begs to differ, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. What I do wonder, though, is: Are your farts usually smelly?
That’s it for this one! L8R!!