Not only did I enjoy delivering 75 copies of the Portland Press Herald each morning before heading to school, but I liked the smell. Believe it or not, but the aroma of the ink was a welcomed friend each morning. Whether it was in the cold of winter in the warm, corner laundromat or on the hot tar of the Esso station where the papers were stacked in summer, one of my first acts was grabbing a bunch and taking a good whiff. What my problem is I do not really know. I do remember being a big fan of smelling my breakfast cereal, whatever it was, each morning at the table. What do I love smelling these days? Well, all of the pleasant stuff that everyone enjoys but lots of strange stuff. Here are a few... brand new books, paperbacks or hardcovers, coffee before I measure it out each AM, any place I find leather clothing, in my closet or on a clothes rack, pillows, dusty curtains, shampoo at 5 AM, gasoline at the pump, freshly cut grass and even handfuls of dirt, any pine that I'm working with that has been cut, fresh laundry... I could go on forever. Really. Maybe I need a support group. I've even caught myself smelling the compost pile once. Give me something new, and I'll take a good long draw. Normal?