Sometimes, I am, in a word, Odd. I know this. For the most part I embrace it. But, it’s come to my attention that some of my favorite things are different than other people. In fact, it could be said that I have favorite things in some categories where others wouldn’t.
For example, ice. I like only a certain kind of ice – crushed but kind of soft so that the ice breaks apart easily between my teeth. I would rather have no ice than have the really hard, sharp crushed ice that, when chewed between my teeth, cuts my gums. And large cubes? No. I say no. None of that in my drink. But my really, really, really favorite part of crushed ice is when it comes out of my fridge door while I’m using the CRUSH feature and the tiny, tiny flecks get on the top along the rim of my glass and it reminds me of a snow cone or snow only better. When I finish filling my glass to 2/3rds full, I put it to my face, stick my tongue out and scoop those excruciatingly wonderful tiny flecks into my mouth. THAT is my favorite kind of ice.
I have a favorite spoon. Well, actually, spoonS. They are the only two of their kind and I have no idea where we got them. They don’t match anything and I don’t remember seeing them before we moved from San Diego a few years ago. They have a brushed silver finish, not too shiny, not too dull. The handle fits in my grasp in the most wonderful way. They have a perfect weight, not too heavy, not too light. The tip of the spoon is squared off but not harsh. The bowl of the large spoon is the perfect size for cereal and the bowl of the small spoon is perfect for ice cream. If you use one of these spoons and render it dirty for me to use next, I won’t say anything. You would probably never know they were my favorite. But, you might find that your pants are folded not as nice with the crease down the center next time. In this small way, I will be passive aggressive.
Speaking of ice cream, I don’t really like it. Except one kind – French Vanilla Bean made with all natural ingredients. And I only want one small scoop with an entire sliced banana on top and one squeeze of warmed hot fudge sauce on top. No whipped cream or nuts or cherry. And if you can get me one of those just the way I like it, I might make out with you for an hour. But, only if you are my husband. If you aren’t, I’ll just say a muffled thanks while I snarffle. And then I’ll make you a quilt or build you a house or something. But, I only want one of those once every couple of months or so.
Right up there next to the crushed ice is the smell of freshly rained-on concrete. Or bricks. I can’t really expound on those since they are as simple as what I wrote.
Links for today:
>Jason Calacanis wrote about what he’s learned about weight loss. I’ve reread it a few times now and I still like it.
>I got this little zine from Jen Lemen at Blogher. It’s inspirational and worth every cent.
>Do not click on this link if you value keeping your lunch in your stomach. But if you do click and have any idea who the demographic is for this product, I’d love to hear. (via)