For the Love of Apples

I love apples.

I love love love apples.

Gala, Fuji, Golden Delicious, Jonagold, Pink Lady, Cameo.

An apple day often isn't nearly enough.

I recently checked this book out from the library. I'm in love. I plan to purchase a copy soon that I can keep forever and always. There is so much  to know about apples and so much more to do with apples than I knew could be done.

I may secretly wish to be Amy Traverso.

I made my first batch of apple butter using a recipe from this book, a poor example of the diversity of recipes featuring apples. I've been eating it on everything, including my finger. It's crazy delicious, was easy peasy, and will be a fall staple in my home forevermore.

One Small Piece at a Time

I'm in love with the way I smell today. A strange thing maybe, but smells are important to me, and the way I smell is particularly important. I'm obsessed with chewing gum, not because I love gum but because I will not be caught with bad breath. I got out a new bar of soap this morning and it smells delicious and so now I smell delicious.

I've been organizing my world one small piece at a time. I would prefer to make some rather large changes, but it seems the big things are out of my control. I've stopped thinking about them and am instead concentrating on the things I can do. Like organizing my bathroom drawers.

There's lots of information and videos online about how to organize your bathroom drawers. Who knew, huh? A lot of it wasn't helpful. Turns out my bathroom needs are pretty sparse compared to the. I purchased three of these in different colors. Because they were made to keep things from sliding they don't move around in the drawer even without adhesive and they keep my things from sliding. I now have perfectly organized bathroom drawers with a bit of sunshine and happiness tucked inside.

Yesterday it snowed for the first time this year. In true celebratory fashion, I got my first cup of hot chocolate. It was delicious, a treat I don't often allow myself these days. I've been eating healthy. I mostly only consume the right things these days but not enough of them. Another part of my life I can bring into order. My dear friend M.C. told me about how much using a chore chart has helped her bring order to one small piece of her life.

So, I made myself a chart, a healthy eating chart. It reminds me how much of each yummy thing I need. Each day I can cross stuff off according to my levels of consumption. Or, if I'm feeling creative I can practice coloring in the lines.

Pretty fun, huh?

The Ma picked this up for me off the bargain shelf at Barnes & Noble. I love the Barnes & Noble bargain shelves. I can't tell you how much time I've wasted browsing the bargain books at Barnes & Noble.

The Ma brought this home for me, proudly showing off the bargain sticker. She was so excited. It's pretty elementary and there's not a lot of content (maybe a couple of hours worth), but it's funny to listen to on the way to or from work. And there's nothing wrong with a little extra French practice. Most of the French studying I do these days involves nothing more than me and a book. It's good for me to listen to a French speaker now and again. Or, in this case, it's good for me to listen to a man that's being haunted by the voice of his former French professor who goads him into asking a cute French girl on a lunch date. This French professor also has the power to change the weather and make the man's car not work so he has to take the train (en train!).

Homeless and Poor or Maybe Crazy

Apparently that's what I was the other day.

The Ma and I had a couple of errands to run in the center of town. Instead of parking a couple of times, we parked once and crossed the street to get to our errands on the other side. (Why did the mom and the daughter cross the road? To get to their errands on the other side!) The intersection we crossed is fairly central and it's always busy (even in the early morning hours; don't ask me how I know because I'll never admit to it). It takes a long time to walk across that street. This is what happened while we were doing it.

The Ma: *sniggle, sniggle, sniggle

Me: *quizzical brow raise

The Ma: We're homeless and poor. *sniggle

Me: *confused face squench* What?

The Ma: *sniggle* Whenever I see someone walking across this road I think, "Oh you poor, homeless person."

Me: *pause of thought ending in serious confusion* Because only poor, homeless people walk across this road.

The Ma: *sniggle, sniggle* Yes! What sane person with a car and a roof over their head would walk? *sniggle, sniggle

Yup, that really happened.

For the sake of increased understanding, I should tell you my mother has this funny little laugh that bursts out of her when she thinks something is so funny that she can't contain it. I call this her sniggle. It is not malicious. Usually, when she sniggles she's sniggling at herself, as in the story above.

In my mother's defense, it's not entirely her fault that she has strange ideas when it comes to a body being moved by its own force rather than that of a machine.

If I Were a Reptile

Sometimes, I wish I were a snake. Then, I could shed myself as easily as a snake sheds its skin. I would slither away without myself and be, well, whatever I would be if I left myself behind.

If you get tired of where you're living, you move. If you're tired of eating the same thing for dinner every Wednesday night, you eat something else instead. If you're tired of watching the same program on tv, or listening to the same music on your way into work, or of wearing the same clothes, you change them.

I'm bored nearly to death of being me. I'm tired of my likes and dislikes, the way I spend my time, how I'm always trying something new, the things I think and the things I feel. Trying something new is passe, the things I like are the same things I've liked for years and years and years, I would rather lie on my bed and make pictures out of texture on my ceiling than dig into one of my usual pastimes, and my thoughts aren't worth dribble. I wake up in the morning and nearly fall right back to sleep out of sheer boredom from still being me.

I bet in twenty seconds or less I can make you bored nearly to death of me, too.

ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

See. Now we both want to run when we see me coming. Problem is, when you run, it works. The running, I mean. It doesn't matter how far or fast I run, I can't get away from me.

And if you're sitting there thinking you're not bored of me yet, you cheated. When it comes to being me, there is no skimming.

I should make some changes. Throw out some of the old, bring in something new. Problem is, I'm already tired of all of that new stuff because all that new stuff will be more of the old stuff. It will be things I like, things that are solidly me, and I'm tired of me. Replacing my old stuff with new stuff that I don't like makes even less sense.

Just to be clear, it's not that I don't like myself. None of this, if you're not happy with who you are you can become a different person. I do like myself. There are a few rough edges here and there, some small housekeeping things that I should look into taking care of, but for the most part I am a-okay with who I am. I'm just bored is all.

It's an impossible problem. A ridiculous one, too. Who gets tired of being themselves?

You know what the worst of it is? Even if I were a snake the only thing I could shed is my skin, which would really be no help at all.