People often compare me to small, docile, often furry animals. It’s true. I try not to be offended. I try not to be amazed that no one sees the raging lunatic that thrives just below the surface of all my laid-back attitudes. Maybe it’s my height (knee high to a leprechaun) maybe it’s my non threatening way of dressing (read…bargin-bin, slightly rumpled). Maybe it’s the fact that even when I DO wear make-up you can’t tell I’m wearing any. I suspect it’s mostly because I’m usually happy (I’m still ALIVE, yippie!!!). And I tend to avoid confrontation. Anger makes me SUPER uncomfortable. Anger in PUBLIC PLACES? Eek! Insanity! What is happening? I’m reduced to what is probably the exact look a bunny gets right before she’s eaten. I don’t love this about myself. Emotions, feelings being expressed, usually negative feelings. Ick. Insert appropriate joke here and vacate the premises quickly.
I dragged Bill and Ellie to a vegetarian restaurant for Mother’s Day. I’ve been struggling with my meat eating again. I don’t even kill spiders (I’m not TERRIFIED of spiders anymore but…let’s just say they’re one peg higher than the bogeyman. One notch better than a horde of Zombies. But not by much) and I have been killing some ants lately that have gotten into the house but only out of necessity and I feel pretty badly about it. I was picking them up with paper towel and putting them outside but they just found their way back in and then called all their friends to come too. Well I don’t know if they were the SAME ants. It’s not like they wear little sweaters or anything. And even if they did they would probably all be the same dull brown. I could MAKE them sweaters of course, then I would know for sure who was who but then, they could just be taking them off outside, or borrowing one another’s sweater so I could never be sure.
Anyway, we’re selling the house so I don’t want to leave an ant problem for the next people. So. I’ve been killing ants. And it really, really bothers me. And then a lightbulb went off in my head. It was like the universe smacking me upside the head. I sat there, feeling bad about the fifth ant I just killed, eating leftover chicken and I looked down and I thought…holy crap. The way I eat is not lining up with the way I live my life. I will go out of my way to displace instead of make dead a dreaded enemy (the SPIDER) and yet I will happily chew away on the dead carcass of a higher life form? I already don’t eat pig (they’re very smart) or lamb (sooo cute!) so cutting out chicken, turkey, and cow shouldn’t be too hard, right? Wrong, really. So many traditions are rooted in eating meat. Thanksgiving, Christmas dinner, summer (BB-Q) winter (Meat stews). Not to mention Bill already thinks he’s suffering enough living with a woman who doesn’t eat bacon, or pork chops, or lamb chops, or duck a l’orange…
Anyway, I’m still struggling with this and that’s for another blog. So. We’re at the vegetarian restaurant and the placemats are the Chinese horoscopes. Ellie is the horse, Bill the monkey, me the sheep. Right? Of course. It said I was gentle and calm, loving and timid. Bill laughed and said it was me to a tee. Really? TIMID? I looked at him like he was an alien creature from another planet. How can someone who is MARRIED TO ME, think I was TIMID? I’m not TIMID! He does call me bunny sometimes but I assumed it was ironically. Suddenly our whole relationship was thrown into question. He took another bite of his veggie tempera, then grimaced. He shook his head. They didn’t do this right.
I stare at him. “I’m NOT timid.” I said again. Then Ellie sneezed and snot went everywhere and we were occupied with cleaning the table, chairs, ceiling and floor of the sneeze-juice. She’s had a runny nose for a week. I’ve been sick too but getting better. Also, I’m an adult so I’ve learned to aim my snot into appropriate receptacles, like a kleenex. Or Bill’s ear. See how timid he thinks I am THEN. Heh heh heh.