In a couple of months the night blooming jasmine will be in full bloom. I think it's one of the most fragrant of flowers I've ever come across. There happens to be a very large night blooming jasmine bush down next to the church where Chandler likes to poop, which is a good thing. In fact I liked the effect it has on masking the poopy smells so much, that I planted some in the dog run next to the house. The only problem is that every time I smell night blooming jasmine now, I think of dog shit. It's funny how catching just the hint of an odor will trigger a memory in your mind. Yesterday I was walking Chandler in the cool of the morning, and as I was walking past somebody's driveway they started their car up. It was an older car that probably has valve issues and isn't burning fuel efficiently, but it immediately brought back memories of my dad's old green Plymouth. Way, way back in the early 1950's my dad had this green Plymouth that also didn't burn fuel very efficiently. When he would start it up, it would have the most noxious of odors which most people would find unpleasant. I however, found it to be exciting because it meant that we were going somewhere. It's the same way I used to feel when I was a cab driver in Chicago back in the 1970's. I'd sit in the long cab line at O'Hare Field while jet planes would take off and land all around us. The air was drenched with the odor of jet fuel and jet exhaust. Once again, most people would say it was a horrible smell, but I loved it. It was the smell of exotic, far off places. I don't like the smell of jet fuel and jet exhaust anymore. It just isn't the same since I became an actual airline passenger. All that smell does for me now is give me the cramps, and remind me of drunken party people who think everybody on the red eye wants to hear them laughing and shouting all the way across the continent.