Hello, Creatures.
First and foremost! Hanging out in the Artist Alley at FWA this weekend, come on by! And if you’re just checking out this site for the first time, thanks for stopping by and saying hello!
Second and…er…second-most…I’d like to take this opportunity to warn you that I am extremely food driven. You know when you watch those shows on the I hate Humanity Channel Animal Planet, like Animal Cops: InsertCityHere, and they talk about animals being food aggressive?
That’s me.
If I was a dog, in the pound, I’d be the one put down because I’m there trying to rip the hand off of whomever is trying to take my food.
I have no clue where this behavior came from. It’s not like I came from a big family and had to fight to get enough food. And it’s not like we just didn’t have enough food on the table, either. My one sibling and I were always well-fed. Nevertheless, I get REALLY overprotective of whatever it is that’s sitting on my plate. I don’t like it when folks are even eying my food! Even people for whom I care very deeply about….Say…My husband, 1950’s Dad.
Let’s say I’m eating fries from somewhere and in swoops 1950’s Dad to grab one. I KNOW this is a common thing, and it’s JUST one fry, it’s not like I’d even miss it if I hadn’t been paying attention (I am ALWAYS paying attention to french fries. Constant. Vigilance.). Plus, I mean, come on, this is my husband I’m talking about here, we’re supposed to share just about everything. This does not stop the well of anger that suddenly, and unexpectedly comes bubbling up before I stop myself and think, “Wooooah….Wait. You are acting like a crazy person!” (The key to getting around this is for him to ask before taking one. For some reason, that seems to quell the rage, lol!)
All this is why I get terribly excited when it comes to obtaining foods that I can’t always get year round, like, say, Girl Scout cookies. I haven’t yet popped out of the bushes on some Scouts on vacation…
yet…
But I HAVE startled them with my exuberant shouts when I see them camped out in front of the grocery store. They always end up with this wary look that says: “you’re supposed to be a grown-up.” Yes. Yes, I am, little Scouts. And this grown up is handing you cash for cookies. So fork over!
That’s all for now, and as always: Thanks for reading!
