One Last Spin in the Velveteen Rabbit
Sep. 1st, 2020 09:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraFall gardens belong to the squash and the peppers. And I’m not a big fan of squash, so…
Behold my perfect banana peppers:
Behold my voluptuous jalapenos:
Behold my fiery habaneros and my tiny, vicious Thai peppers:
My ghost pepper actually fruited, too—it’s a tiny round pepper, striped red and orange.
###
The guy who tried to give me all those tomatoes the other day—it was a nice gesture, but the one thing I do not need right now is more tomatoes!—asked me if I minded if he smoked while he answered the National Counting Project questions.
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m one of those X-smokers who enjoys the smell of cigarettes. I didn’t give up smoking for health reasons; I don’t see any particular advantage to living to 85. I gave it up because it got too expensive.”
“Was it hard to stop? I’ve been using patches. They’re really not working for me.”
“Well, I did it in a particular way,” I said. “I really wouldn’t recommend this method to anyone. But it worked for me. Whenever I’d get a craving, I’d eat a pepper. Completely took away the craving! Also a kind of negative reinforcement, you know. Because—burning hot! Although, I do like peppers. But I generally don’t eat them raw.”
I did not tell him that this method also worked to end my brief flirtation with heroin many, many years earlier.
###
I took yesterday off from the National Counting Project, and I’m taking today off, too. I have considered not returning to the National Counting Project at all, in fact: Those awful people on Sunday kinda freaked me out.
But it’s only ongoing for a few more weeks. I have other revenue sources, of course, but squeezing words and ideas out of my brain is exhausting too, albeit in a different way.
Shortly, I must toddle down to Mavis and cajole them into removing the license plates from the Saturn Ion, which I am donating today to a worthy nonprofit that serves local veterans. I suppose I could remove the license plates myself to prove how macha I am, but you know what? It would take me hours.
I am sad to part with the Saturn Ion. It’s been very good to me. It gets good mileage, and its engine will hold up forever with proper upkeep and maintenance. (I have been very conscientious about proper upkeep and maintenance.) And I like driving a stick shift. But its chassis is old; there are structural parts that are hard to order. Plus, I am in love with the Prius.
Still. I find myself sentimental this morning. As though the Saturn Ion were the Velveteen Rabbit. Or maybe one of the minor characters in Black Beauty: Will the Saturn Ion find a forever home, or is it off to the knackers with it?
Behold my perfect banana peppers:
Behold my voluptuous jalapenos:
Behold my fiery habaneros and my tiny, vicious Thai peppers:
My ghost pepper actually fruited, too—it’s a tiny round pepper, striped red and orange.
###
The guy who tried to give me all those tomatoes the other day—it was a nice gesture, but the one thing I do not need right now is more tomatoes!—asked me if I minded if he smoked while he answered the National Counting Project questions.
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m one of those X-smokers who enjoys the smell of cigarettes. I didn’t give up smoking for health reasons; I don’t see any particular advantage to living to 85. I gave it up because it got too expensive.”
“Was it hard to stop? I’ve been using patches. They’re really not working for me.”
“Well, I did it in a particular way,” I said. “I really wouldn’t recommend this method to anyone. But it worked for me. Whenever I’d get a craving, I’d eat a pepper. Completely took away the craving! Also a kind of negative reinforcement, you know. Because—burning hot! Although, I do like peppers. But I generally don’t eat them raw.”
I did not tell him that this method also worked to end my brief flirtation with heroin many, many years earlier.
###
I took yesterday off from the National Counting Project, and I’m taking today off, too. I have considered not returning to the National Counting Project at all, in fact: Those awful people on Sunday kinda freaked me out.
But it’s only ongoing for a few more weeks. I have other revenue sources, of course, but squeezing words and ideas out of my brain is exhausting too, albeit in a different way.
Shortly, I must toddle down to Mavis and cajole them into removing the license plates from the Saturn Ion, which I am donating today to a worthy nonprofit that serves local veterans. I suppose I could remove the license plates myself to prove how macha I am, but you know what? It would take me hours.
I am sad to part with the Saturn Ion. It’s been very good to me. It gets good mileage, and its engine will hold up forever with proper upkeep and maintenance. (I have been very conscientious about proper upkeep and maintenance.) And I like driving a stick shift. But its chassis is old; there are structural parts that are hard to order. Plus, I am in love with the Prius.
Still. I find myself sentimental this morning. As though the Saturn Ion were the Velveteen Rabbit. Or maybe one of the minor characters in Black Beauty: Will the Saturn Ion find a forever home, or is it off to the knackers with it?
