Do you Smeeeeeeeellllll....

... what my roomie is cooking? Here's some hints:

• Burnt salty water
• Crisco fumes
• Onion-fueled Burmese Nose Snot
• Carbonized mulched Pig-meat with MoanoSodiumGluetamate and assorted organic Nitrates

If you guessed pseudo-Bolognaise sauce for non-noodled-Spaghetti, you guessed wrong!
Roomie is on the phone (again), telling his Girlfriend Down Under that he's steaming chicken. Wrong!
It's leftover Dinner Splatter, lovingly seared by Heating Coil. Mmmm. So appetizing.

As I desperately static-charge my way to the balcony door and set off a St Elmo's Fire-sized blue ball of kinetic energy on the handle, I remember the fresh smells of:


- moist loam, freshly revealed by snowmelt, and a squirrel's determined rooting. See the little guy near the 'trunk'.

- freshly rain-pelted sludge, lining the driveway. It's lightly garnished with cigarette ash, broken butts, with a light sprinkle of tarred driveway meticulously gouged out by snow ploughs. The upright squirrel in the background (near the tree line) is obviously chittering in appreciation.

- recently used squirrel outhouse (behind and to the right of the leftmost tree). Note the grand entrance to the rustic abode of Mr & Mrs Squirrel.

- pristine ornithoid spoor, joyously revealing to interested amateur anthropologists what geese can forage from soggy ground.

- gently spiralling clumps of snow, born of virgin moisture from the heavens, turned crystalline by temperatures decrescendo poco a poco. Snow and gently rolling fog enveloping Gates Mills in a sleepy embrace, silencing the shriek of technology, wrapping a cocoon of tranquility upon all who can hear.