What's the strongest association you have between a scent and a memory?
I don't know if it's the strongest, but recently on a foggy morning I smelled slightly burnt gasoline, and that took me back to memories of vacationing on a lake in Maine when I was little. We lived in a tiny house on a tiny island for 2 weeks, and I remember bringing our boat back to the mainland and filling the tank from the pump at South Arm campground. Based out of that same dock was a pontoon boat that would make a run to deliver mail to the shores and islands of the lake at dawn and dusk.
Pizza is one of my favorite food groups. I lived in Boston for a long stretch before Atlanta, and slice transactions were much more efficient there. I became accustomed to having slices ready to go at to any neighborhood pizza shop. You walk up, you say "slice of cheese", and drop between one and two dollars, and before the money hit the counter you'd have a delicious and greeky slice of pizza on a paper plate where your money once was.
They did custom slices too, but it was just *assumed* that many walk-ups would want a slice of cheese or pepperoni pizza, so they had the good sense to keep slices of those varieties hot and ready for sale.
In Atlanta, many pizza joints offer very good customized slice solutions, maybe even better than those in Boston. But they all involve ordering and waiting and drinking lots of sweet tea in the meantime, no matter what the slice. That's all well and good, but should you have to wait for the likeliest item on the menu, a slice of cheese pizza? Grant Central in East Atlanta, I'm looking at you. But in fairness, the problem appears to be universal.
Now you may protest that a slice made-to-order is always fresher and tastier than one that's been sitting there all tarted up under a heat lamp, waiting for some sad sack to take it home for the night. But this is simply not the case. There are ways. Sit a pizza pie or two on top of the pizza oven instead of under a lamp. Rotate the stock for freshness. If you were Johnny-on-the-spot with the cheese and pep slices and gained a reputation for that, you'd be able to afford throwing out a stale pie or two because the slice lines would be out the door. I'm not suggesting they ditch the custom slice model; I'm asking for a permutation — do both.
If Boston can do it, Atlanta can do it. Who's with me?
What's the oldest digital camera photo you have on your computer? When is it from? Let's see it!
Wow, turns out it was August 24, 1999. From a company outing for Circle.com (formerly Circle Interactive, formerly Arnold Interactive, formerly PSK01, then eventually EURO RSCG Circle and also Beam). I think it was my idea to make my team in the scavenger hunt wear these lobster bibs on our heads. It's uncanny how people do what I say sometimes. That's Jeff, with a gin and tonic in a plastic cup. The baseball bat is for effect.
My goldenrod-colored "My Pet Human" tee from Threadless has become shirt of the hour, hands-down. It's my new best friend. However, since I've been wearing it I've had two strange calamities befall me, both of which were connected to the natural world.
- Item: I wore it to one of the Braves-Red Sox interleague games at Turner Field. All evening tiny green bugs happily sunned themselves under the lights *on my shirt*. They might have been tiny Katydids. I'd shoo them away but then more would come to roost. It really didn't bother me other than the fact that it looked just plain odd to have tiny cute bright green bugs hanging out on a golden shirt.
- Item: This morning as I walked my dog I was divebombed and harassed by a crazy swallow. When we came upon it, it started squawking at us. We kept walking. It followed. As if we had taken its eggs and made hollandaise sauce or something (which we hadn't). It took a swoop at my head. We walked faster. Eventually we lost it. I can't help but think it was somehow related to the goldenrod shirt.