I remember my dad saying "Don't touch my plate unless you want a fork in your hand." I get that. Look, I'm no Michelle Obama. You go on ahead and eat whatever you want. You want to drink melted lard with a Silly Straw, fine by me. Just don't ask me for a sip of my lard.
This is one of my many mild and non-alarming neuroses. I like food. I LOVE food. I celebrate food. Also, I ration food for maximum enjoyment. Say, for example, I have a 12 pack of Coca-Cola, the nectar of the gods. I will allow myself 1 Coke a day, to have as many Coke days as possible. If I have some other good and holy thing like beef jerky I take small portions and eat it very slowly, drawing the flavor of Texas into my very soul. Often, someone will come along and grab slice of jerky and eat it all willy-nilly. No respect. Or leave a half-drunk Coke around, ruined. This pains me.
Or, at a restaurant, just as my entree arrives, and the long wait is over, and I am back with my precious tamale or General Tso's, somebody decides maybe they are hungry, after all, and snags a choice piece. I am moved. I am disturbed. I cry out.
See, some people are sharers. And while I would never hesitate to share my futon with you (well, maybe not anybody), I would just prefer to share food with you that has been previously designated as a shared food, and is, you know, on a separate plate and such. If you are a sharer, this is bad form to you. You feel I am lacking some essential character quality, and it bothers you. You would never hesitate to give someone a swig of your Coke ration, or a monstrous bite of your cheeseburger. I don't get you.
Well then, you & my husband are alike. I am a sharer, or at least, a borrower. :)
ReplyDeleteVery early on in our relationship he realized I would always want a bite of his food and, sweet man that he is, just started ordering more food to compensate. But sometimes he does write his name on a box of cereal and ban the rest of us from it. Ever done *that*??
I try, but Richy doesn't observe labels...
ReplyDeletei LOVE this post :)
ReplyDeleteMy husband has similar "issues". I attribute to a) born into large family, b) birth order , and/or c) multiple head injuries resulting from a or b. His also only involves foods, otherwise he would gladly share what he can to someone in need. Signed: He ate the whole ench-ee-la-da in Texas
ReplyDeleteAs I read I find myself thinking, as I so often find myself thinking as I read your blog, "I totally get this".
ReplyDeleteConfession: I value food so much I find that most of my memories are anchored in what I was eating. "that hotel in Tampico that had the great hotdog place outside".
Fabulous writing.