Today the air is cold and sharp, but smells faintly of burning grass. It's too cold and foggy for a fire in the hills, and I didn't see one. It wasn't the woodsmoke smell from chimbleys either. Sort of a distant cousin to that sweet way the air changed when they burned off the sugar cane fields near where I grew up on Oahu. But back then it was accompanied by the strips of jet black cane ash that would fall from the sky like dried willow leaves. We'd wait until they fell on someone's shoulder or back, and run up and slap it, smearing the ash and staining their shirts, giggling until someone did it back.
Maybe I'm having a stroke and the wires in my noggin are mis-firing. I'm remembering a smell from 20 years ago...
Maybe I'm having a stroke and the wires in my noggin are mis-firing. I'm remembering a smell from 20 years ago...
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I'm glad you don't yell. My ex liked chaos too. He'd yell, I'd cry. Then he'd yell, "Stop crying! We can't talk when you cry!" Uh, no, we couldn't talk when he yelled. It took me a year or five to figure that one out. "I AM the supreme being, I'm not entirely dim."
Yeah, I know we're just joking about stuff. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.
A stroke?
Maybe it's a tumor!