Man Potpourri

Mark loves to smell good. Not good as in, "I shower daily to smell fresh and clean," but good as in "I love me some artificial spray that covers up my natural...scent...so that I don't have to shower!"

Yeah, that kind of good. 

He once received a Christmas-themed can of body spray that made him (and the 20 feet surrounding him) smell like pine trees. Mark wore it year-round, a waft of pine forest mingled with grubby boy sweat following wherever he went. It was not my favorite smell.

Now that he's a teenager, he doesn't mind showering, and he's got a whole new set of smells to apply. He uses approximately one cup of mouthwash daily, and showers with a pungent Axe body wash. He uses a musky Old Spice shampoo and conditioner, which coordinates nicely with his Old Spice Fiji deodorant. And occasionally, he still adds the pine tree body spray, which apparently has a life-time supply in that bottomless can.

He is a walking cornucopia of what a man should smell like. (According to teens...) On a related note, I now take a daily allergy pill thanks to the artificial sprays.

Usually, I can combat these overpowering smells by just opening the windows. But the other day, I walked in to a full-on nasal assault so strong, it actually made my eyes water.

"Oh...my...GOD!" I cried, rubbing my eyes. I thought maybe the local SWAT team had lobbed in a couple tear gas grenades while I was out.

Luckily, I was home just long enough to grab some papers and get out. I figured whatever that smell was, it would die down by the time I came home later.

But I was wrong. It was just as strong. I tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my nose in a makeshift mask, and investigated.

After a brief search, I found the culprit:

I also found the top to the culprit, unceremoniously tossed nearby, and immediately re-capped it. My eyes stopped burning as soon as I put the top back on. 

Mark entered the house a few minutes later, and had the exact opposite reaction. He breathed in deeply, smiling, using his hands to direct the scent toward his own nose.

"It smells so gooooooood in here!" he sighed. "Did you buy a new candle?"

I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I handed the deodorant over to Mark. 

"You forgot to put this away," I told him. "It was stinkin' up the place!"

"That one's for school," he told me, stuffing it into his backpack. "I use it for basketball."

And sure enough, he was right. Because when I went in to the bathroom, there was a another (capped) deodorant on the counter.

It had this sticker on it, which cracked me up:

I giggled as I put it away. Because I certainly don't like the smell, but at least I like Old Spice's sense of humor (and now I know what sunshine and freedom smells like!).