I Am My Father's Nose

Meet my dad.  B-man took this picture as Dad and I were chatting at a family get-together.  We have always been close and I inherited many of his traits, one of which is the ability to pick up scent like a bird dog. 

Growing up, Dad could tell immediately, upon walking in the house, if we had lit matches to burn incense or anything else.  Never mind that hours had passed and we had done everything possible to kill the smell. 

That sucked. 

I, too, pick up on smells quickly.  (B-man still talks about the time I walked in the door and knew that our cat, Leo, had puked a hairball at the bottom of the stairs.)  While a sensitive nose is great as it relates to my love of perfume, it can also be distracting.

For example, unwashed hair will find my nose from across the room.  And if a colleague works out during lunch but doesn't shower off the 'clean sweat,' I will know because he now smells slightly musty and aquatic.  New, 'unscented' hand lotion?  Yup.

In spite of all that, I am grateful for this quality.  My other senses are good enough, falling within a normal range.  But my nose is off the charts.

Thanks, Dad.