Give credit where credit is due...

This blog was created by my most wonderfully amazingly talented incredible brother JORDAN... (who was feeling slightly unappreciated....)

My first blog...

Well, the time has arisen in which I join the rest of the universe in this twenty-first century phenomenon known as "blogging." Currently, the man sitting next to me in class is being extremely harsh and attempting to make me feel self-conscious of this blog. However, seeing as I'm not "forcing" anyone to read my blog, and it is MY blog, I can - and will- write whatever I want. Including this.

The sense of smell I think is my favorite sense. I probably would have chosen the sense of hearing last year, but I have come to a great appreciation for my sense of smell. There is something so beautiful about the way your sense of smell can take you back in time. Whether it's a day ago, a decade ago, or perhaps a lifetime ago, it has an incredible ability to warp me to another time and place. Some memories are pleasant, some I wish I could leave behind to never revisit. Last week I had the pleasure of visiting Ft. Jackson. For those of you who aren't familiar with Army bases, Ft. Jackson is known for its Basic Training facility. I had only taken two steps into one of the "training bays" when I was instantly taken back to my own experience in basic training. It took me a few minutes to snap out of the flash-backs. The Army has a surplus of this Pine Oil cleaning stuff which they apparently use everywhere on everything. I felt like a WWII vet taking a trip back to a battlefield... Only mine took me back to being yelled at while in the front-leaning "rest position" doing push-ups on the floor that smelled so strongly like Pine Oil you could taste it. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Maybe it wasn't one of the most pleasant memories, but it's definitely one that gave me an appreciation for the things I have in life.

A few weeks ago it rained here. I mean, really rained. (courtesy of the hurricanes) I always read books when I was growing up that were the "classic" love stories. You know the ones I'm referring to... farmer boy "falls in-love" with the preacher's daughter... they live happily ever-after...(don't even get me started on "falling in-love"...) Anyway, in those books when there was going to be a storm they always talked about being able to "smell the rain coming." I never really thought I knew what that meant, but I do. Perhaps it's because in Oregon, it always smells like that. We were walking out to our cars one morning when I turned to my friend and told her how I thought it was about to rain. Funny how sometimes you just have to be away from things before you learn to appreciate them for what they are worth. May I never get to the place where I have forgotten where I came from.