I Still Talk To Fruit

We’ve been down this road. I previously confessed my tendency to consider the feelings of inanimate objects. There was no fallout from that disclosure, and I have no regrets for divulging what weighs on my heart.

I Still Talk To Fruit

Since that post, things haven’t necessarily escalated, but this tendency hasn’t diminished, either. Does this make me a little crazy—or just irresistibly caring? I’ll let you decide.

I won’t leave for work in the morning without opening all the shutters in the whole house. Is it because I love the morning sun pouring into the space I love? Kiiiiinda. Is it because, as we’ve discussed, I’m a morning person and the idea of a new day, with new opportunities, starts coming to life as soon as I welcome in the new day’s rays? Sorrrrta.

Is it that I feel like the house wants to see outside?

It is.

I feel the house exhale a satisfied “ahhh” as I begin opening the shutters—and I feel it escalate with every new window I open.

I sometimes think it’s a shame the A/C unit is outside the house, working its butt off for a home it can’t even see into. That’s why I love opening the laundry room shutters the most. The unit is right outside that window, and I feel like I’m giving him a peek inside the house he’s grinding it out for.

Side Note: I do not think the A/C unit says, “Mornin’ Miss Anna” every time I open those shutters—and whoever told you that (or insinuated it), is a slanderous lying liar trying to tarnish my good name. Seriously, that would be so tilted if I thought Marvin the air conditioner greeted me each day.

umm

Is it really that weird? Asking for a friend.

A lot of my angst around non-human things centers around guilt I feel about the things I choose for my day (a towel, a banana, a shirt), or for a recipe (a bunch of cilantro, a package of mushrooms), or for groceries (lemons, a roasted chicken, avocados). I never want what I choose to cause the ones not chosen any grief.

I Still Talk To Fruit

Not knowing (if things want to get picked or want to stay with their family) is what weighs on me.

Enter paper towels.

Most of you already know, we shop at Costco. One of the things we buy in bulk is paper towels, and they go up in the laundry room utility closet. Every time I go in to get a new roll, I’m momentarily paralyzed by the uncertainty of their desires. Do the rolls want me to choose them, or are their fingers crossed that they get to stay? Is getting chosen like getting OFF death row, or is it like heading TO the electric chair? Is it like being pulled up from the minor league to the big league or is it like being yanked from the big leagues and sent to coach junior high? Do they consider this closet a place to hang with their crew—and do crew things—or do they think they’re stranded on an island, where most of their days are spent waiting to get rescued?

I’ve convinced myself that, like people, they want to do what they were created to do. They want to clean up spills and get your count tops spotless. I have to believe that. For instance, if I was put on this Earth to break dance (and I’m almost positive I was), and I never got to shock and lock, then I’d never fulfill my role and my existence would feel incomplete. Yeah, hanging out with other break dancers would be cool for a while, but what I’d really want is to get out and execute a real smooth b-boy sway into a flawless windmill. Then I’d be whole.

So I tell myself that as soon as I grab a new roll, the other rolls are chanting and cheering it on. “Eddie! Get it boy! Show’em how it’s done son!” Sure, there’d be one hater not chiming in (there’s a hater in every bulk pack of Bounty—trust me on this.)

I usually just grab the roll, take his jacket plastic off and place him on the paper towel holder. I let him know we’ll be spending a couple of weeks together, doing big things. I’m more and more convinced my choosing him made him proud.

I also experience a fair amount of guilt over tossing a product before I’ve used the last bit of it. Liquid soap, bar soap, mustard,

Side Note: That’s not why I drink pickle juice from the jar before I toss it.

I Still Talk To Fruit

Can we just go ahead and agree that the last bit of any product is like, “Wait! Don’t go! No fair!” Here they are, surely knowing they’re in their twilight days, but wholly unprepared for a sudden death—not when they still had life left.

Don’t you feel bad now that I’ve shed light on this unfairness? WELCOME TO MY WORLD.

I’m consistent, if nothing else—I continue to apologize to things I run into. I can’t stop; the apology is out before I know it. And it’s a double sorry, because I’m sorry for the object—and the body part involved. My body is counting on me to execute the most basic function of protecting it. It probably knows that some things—like car wrecks, falling shelves at Kroger and spooning too-hot soup into my mouth—are accidents, with no ill-intent whatsoever. But I’d bet good money my body expects me to protect it from slamming into a door facing I’ve successfully avoided for 10 years. I bet it absolutely does not give me the benefit of the doubt when I smack the hair dryer into my head, when I’ve escaped this errant motion the last 490 days. How could I NOT apologize?

I feel bad for things that annoy me just by doing their job—like our chirping fire alarm. The ONLY other way I’d know about its dead battery could end in my own death. Also doing its job? My alarm clock. I wake up about three minutes before my alarm goes off around 90% of the time. But when it does get to obnoxiously buzz me awake, I feel aggravated and bitter—but then I feel bad because it’s doing the job I actually asked it to do.

And I’m not about to hit snooze. Snoozing holds no appeal for me. All it does is provide a new layer of annoyance. Why would I want to relive the shock of the alarm, over and over, for nine-minute bouts of semi-sleep? I liken it to snacking. I’m not a snacker because I want the real deal—a meal. And when nighttime comes, I want the real deal—sleep. That’s probably why I’m not a napper either. I want the whole shebang.

Side Note: Obviously I snack sometimes and nap on occasion. Please—I’m not THAT weird.

I Still Talk To Fruit

Maybe I’m a little weird; whatever.

As bad as I feel for all these things, you’d think personality tests results would show extremely high empathy levels, but surprisingly, they do not. I know why. It’s because those online tests are trying to discern if you are empathetic to the human race—which I’m probably not. I’d like to be, but mostly, I have too many issues with humans and their …  ways.

I do, however, have an abundance of potentially misplaced empathy for animals. Not house pets—they’ve got more than enough crazies caring for them. Sorrrrrry, I shouldn’t say things like that; I know I’m the minority and I know it’s now societally acceptable to call a dog your child, to let your hairy canine sleep in your bed, and to let his butt-licking mouth touch your pillow.

I’m talking about wilder animals. I find myself feeling kinda sad for animals who didn’t have a choice in who they’d be in our world. Take crows, for instance. The stiff ones that skulk around restaurant patios with their beaks half open, squawking loudly for a french fry. They’re not pretty, they don’t move gracefully, their voice isn’t melodic and they get a lot of dirty looks—what a crappy life.

That brings us to vultures. How would you like to come into this beautiful world … as a turkey vulture?

I Talk To Fruit

Imagine sort of looking like an eagle, but having an unattractive head that’s a little bit dinosaur’ish. Then imagine that you weren’t designed to hunt; but strictly to be nature’s sanitation service. What a fate.

– Daddy, why am I bald?
– Oh, sweetie—your fleshy head makes being in carcasses more sanitary. You don’t want those pesky intestines sticking to your pretty feathers, now do you?

– Babe, what sounds good for dinner?
– I could really go for some road kill.
– Mmm, raccoon innards—that’s what up. You plan the best dates!

– Aye Dude, what’chu you wanna do today?
– Oh I don’t know, maybe just sit on this telephone pole, look down menacingly at all these passers-by and wait for some juicy roadkill to waft up into our prehistoric nostrils?
– A’ight, cool.

– Hey Dad, I’m heading out with the crew—I’ll see ya later.
– Son, you’re not a crew, you’re a kettle. A crew works at a construction site, or is in charge of flying a plane. When you hang with your kind, you’re a kettle. Remember that.

Side Note: Vultures can sniff out a dead critter from a mile away. That’s how I feel about some of my coworkers feet. But that’s another story.

Another Side Note: Speaking of being born this way. I feel so bad for vegan vultures.
– Mom, what’s for dinner?

Probably possum.
MOTHER, I’m vegan!
Fine, rattle snake?
Mom!  
Well Heavens, can you have armadillo?
Mom! I can have leaves, sticks and dirt that’s never had an animal walk on it. That’s it.
Can you have frogs?
-<flies away really hard>

Yet Another Side Note While We’re On The Topic: Wanna know which non-human I don’t feel especially sorry for? Siri.

She’s extremely helpful, and I often wonder how I survived without her—but she also makes me shake my fist at the sky. Why is it that she always says “left” and “right” EXCEPT when I need it most—when I’m just getting started out of a parking lot. “Go northwest on Mulberry.” NORTHWEST? Sooo, up and sideways? Come ON, Siri. Are you here to help me or hurt me?

She’s also super repetitive and naggy—UNTIL I need it most. “In 2 miles, turn right on Bishop Hills Drive. In 1.5 miles, turn right on Bishop Hills Drive. In 1 mile, turn right on Bishop Hills Drive. In half a mile, turn right on Bishop Hills Drive.” Then when I’m going through the light, “Turn right on to Bishop Hills Drive.” That’s too late, Siri Michelle Gellar!

And how about her favorite non-directive, “Proceed to the route.” I’d love to … IF I KNEW THE ROUTE!

Oh well, she makes us laugh though. Recently, she kept calling Chicon Street “Chicken Street” and it got funnier every. single. time.”Continue on Chicken Street. Arrived at destination—1171 Chicken Street.”

Go home Siri, you’re drunk.

I’d like to say that this time next year, I won’t be attaching human emotions to inanimate objects, but I think we both know that’s unlikely. I, in fact, just had a little pep talk with our shy peonies. It was less of a pep talk and more of a guilt trip. We got them from my Grandma’s garden after she passed away, and although they’re further along than last year, they’re not really rep’ing her the way I’d like (and the way I know my Grandma would like!) I got down real close to the new, but flowerless growth, and used the sandwich method … told them I was excited for what they would become (then slid in how disappointed Grandma would be if they didn’t step up to the plate) then said I knew they’d come through with flying colors.

I’ll let y’all know if they respond the way the sago palms did.

I Still Talk To Fruit

Do you talk to fruit?

Let’s link up on Facebook and Twitter!

Versatile Blogger Award

How nice! The author of Throbbings of Noontide nominated me for The Versatile Blogger award! Wow, she has great taste 😉 and some amazing photography (and interesting topics) on her site. Seriously, thank you … I’m quite honored and also excited to pass along this very cool award.

versatile blogger badge

As a side note, I was notified of this nomination when I was visiting my parents over Christmas. My mom saw me grinning at my iPad and asked what was so amusing. I said I’d tell her as soon as my dad came back in the room (he was probably lotioning Scouts paws and reading him a crime novel where the police chief’s dog is the hero).

Once he reappeared, I explained how the award worked and then read them what ToNT wrote on her blog:

Life is Funny. This woman can truly write and is genuinely amusing. I also enjoy her dad’s comments.”

I looked up at my beaming dad, “Well, well, well—looks like we have a real celebrity on our hands.” It was awesome.

Ok, the Rules for the Award:

1. Thank the Blogger who nominated you.
2. Include a link to their site.
3. Include the Award image in your post.
4. Give 7 random facts about yourself.
5. Nominate other Bloggers for the award.
6. When nominating, include a link to their site.
7. Let other bloggers know that you nominated them.

Seven Random Facts About Me:

1. This site makes me laugh until I’m weak.
2. Sometimes my car drives me to McDonald’s without my permission like a brat punk pusher faithful servant.
3. I sometimes practice memorizing license plate numbers in preparation for the day I have only a split second to commit one to memory … constant vigilance, People!
4. If my loved ones can’t bring themselves to cremate me upon my death, I hope they bury me in one-piece footed pajamas. Preferably fleece and a color that really brings out my eyes.
5. I wish my left hand was more useful. It plays the “least favorite” card too often. “Maybe I’d be more helpful if you loved me the way you love Right. Maybe I’d brush your teeth if given half a chance. Maybe I’d feed you if you didn’t always expect the worst of me.” Sheesh, get some therapy.
6. It horrifies me to think how rarely I washed my sheets in college.
7. I love nothing more than happening upon a one-liner that’s part of a bigger conversation but stands alone so hilariously well:
“You don’t have baby teeth!”
“Tortillas are not a toy!”
“Don’t chew on that—it’s a gift.”
“Oh, she goes WHEELS OFF over a june bug.”

Here are some great blogs (in no particular order) that range from funny to clever to amazingly moving:

Tori http://torinelson.wordpress.com/
Maura http://smartasseryinc.wordpress.com/
Michelle http://thegreenstudy.com/
Nathan http://badlandsbadley.wordpress.com/
Amy http://amcbspeakscommunication.blogspot.com/
Julia http://thejoyunderneath.wordpress.com/
Ann Voskamp http://www.aholyexperience.com/
Kitkat and Stormy http://easiersaidblog.com/
This post makes me laugh! http://whatpplsay.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/funny-answers/

Very Inspiring Blogger Award

Thank you created~create.it for this awesome nomination/award! Such a sweet, unexpected and pleasant surprise. And now I have the opportunity to show some love to blogs/bloggers I adore!

very-inspiring-blogger

Here are the rules:

  • Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog (see above).
  • List seven random things about yourself.
  • Nominate other blogs.
  • Notify the nominees.
  • Put the award logo on your blog.

Here are 7 random things about me:

1. I want to write a book called The Audacity of My Bed Head.
2. I don’t trust conversion vans.
3. I’m definitely the jar-opener in the house. It’s quite impressive.
4. I’m a morning person and never hit snooze. I know, it’s gross.
5. My arm is never as tired as when I’m scanning radio stations on a road trip. Like, I can barely hold it up the whole time. WHY?!
6. I don’t appreciate it when people finish my sentences … incorrectly:

“I guess I just feel …”
“Guilty?”
“No. Why would I feel guilty? I was going to say I feel like making a hot dog.”
“Oh.”

7. When I drive over a newly thrown out cigarette I always think there is a slight chance my car will blow up.

Here are some blogs I love (in no particular order) and think you will, too:

1. thebloggess It’s actually an extremely popular blog and doesn’t need my approval, but this is one of the funniest things I’ve read.
2. fizzygrrl
3. whencrazymeetsexhaustion
4. jenniferrifkinbryan
5. j-bo
6. montanaroue
7. soulfoood
8. theusualbliss
9. roniloren
10. thequeso
11. thejigglybits