Robinson Crusoe Syndrome

I remember reading Robinson Crusoe for the first time and receiving quite a shock.  You grow up knowing the general idea of the story: young man runs away and signs on a ship.  Said ship goes down.  Young man survives and is stranded on an island.  Young man waits to be rescued, gives up and decides to make the best of it.  After trial and error period during which he become Middle-Aged man, he manages to live in some comfort, albeit solitary and somewhat lonely comfort.  Then Middle-Aged man is sent a Friend named Friday.  Blah-Blah, Middle-Aged man now Old(ish) man is rescued and returns home.  The only thing is, nobody ever tells you as a kid that Friday was a cannibal.  When I read RC the first time and found out that Friday was a fan of the alternate white meat it nearly put me off the book.  Anyway, after having spent two days in an involuntary vow of silence, I realized I was beginning to suffer from Robinson Crusoe Syndrome.  When you start mentally laughing at your own lame jokes, you know its time to get out for a bit.  So, I took it upon myself today to treat myself to the aquarium.  Although I must admit I'm not really a particular fan of anything cold-blooded (or anything with more than four legs or less than two), it was a really nice trip.  Plus, it's been months since I've touched my camera (and I can tell), so I took a few pictures.  I haven't really photoshopped many of them yet, but once I do, I'll post some more.  (I have a new friend now; the albino alligator and I bonded as we commiserated together over our lack of melanin and how it decreased our ability to survive in the great outdoors.....)

Vegetarian Fed Eggs and Life Lessons

You know, you learn a lot about yourself once you suddenly find yourself the only responsible adult in the household. Or, you know, the only person in the household period.  I've learned that I find cooking irritatingly repetitive if I'm only cooking for myself.  Why go to all the trouble and mess to cook for one person when pulling a Lean Cuisine from the freezer works just as well?  I've also learned that eating the same thing for three months will make you ill.  Literally and metaphorically.  I've learned that I don't know how to grocery shop.  My habit has become to go to the grocery store, wander the aisles and stare blankly into space waiting for some revelation about what to cook for dinner, eventually capitulate and buy Rice-a-Roni and fruit and call it a day.  The other day I looked at my shopping list and realized that, no exaggeration, I had written down such specifics as: trash bags, soft soap, bottled water, food.  Simple is better.  Makes life easier.  Or harder?  Anyway, as I was wandering the aisles and suddenly realized I'd only bought replacement eggs once since December I thought I'd better buy some more, as I dare say eggs have an expiration date.  (Do they?  I mean, if I keep them in the fridge, that should extend their shelf life, shouldn't it?  Come on, wasn't the Ice Man nearly perfectly preserved for how long since he was on ice?  Same goes for eggs, right?)  As I was standing there, I noticed on the side of some egg cartons were these words: "Vegetarian Fed Eggs."  Personally, it was an eye-opening experience-I didn't realize eggs needed to be fed or that some were vegetarian.  If it is in reference to the chickens, aren't they 'vegetarian' already?  I mean, yeah, I'd love to see some barnyard bi-ped trying to choke down a medium-rare 12 oz., but I just don't think that's going to happen.  So, suddenly having to become my own responsibility has taught me quite a few new things.  Such as:

1.  Cool-Whip will mold.  Who knew?
2.  Even if you don't know for sure, if a food article doesn't seem like it is supposed to smell like that, chances are, it isn't.
3.  You can cook an entire meal in one pan.  It's all going to end up in the same place anyway, and it saves having to wash multiple dishes.
4.  You can also eat straight out of said pan, also saving clean-up time.
5.  If you don't do it, it doesn't get done.
6.  The phrase 'dead quiet' seems a little creepy when you live by yourself.
7.  It's hard to put a band-aid on your own elbow.
8.  Make sure you have reserve tooth-brushes just in case you drop yours on the floor.
9.  It's nice to be able to drink straight from the orange juice carton, but just remember that when you offer some to guests.
10. No matter how much you try to pretend like you're a 'responsible adult' you can never really convince yourself that you really are.
11. Trying to be completely responsible and mature makes you realize you never get too old to need to call your mama and daddy, just to hear their voices.
12. Even if you make friends, nobody fills in for your family.
13. When you're the one responsible for making sure the oven is turned off you realize that being obsessive compulsive can be a learned trait.
14.  Never assume you have enough milk for cereal tomorrow.
15.  When you lose your social circles, you realize just how social you really were, even if you thought you weren't.

So, life has been.....interesting during these past few months.  Not bad, necessarily, just......interesting.  

Family and Sanity

Guess what?  I get to go home.  For a whole week and a half.  I don't think anyone knows how stoked I am...seriously.  I have never in my entire life spent this much time away from my family.  I've been going through withdrawals-twitching like Ray Charles needing a fix, in fact.  My sister came last weekend, which is the only reason I've been able to make it this far.  My sister is...well, if anyone has a sister, no explanation needed.  You know, I'm sure we fought at some point in our childhood, but never enough for me to remember.  Even as a teenager neither of us went through that whole 'I hate my family' teenage angst-ridden phase.  I remember when we were packing up her room shortly before she got married and moved out, it started out with us laughing hysterically over everything (we were both a little sleep deprived-she from planning a wedding and me from finals) and ended up with both of us sitting on her bedroom floor crying.  Changes are tough, even when they are good and sometimes especially when they are voluntary.  The only thing I've never been able to figure out though, is how we came from the same gene pool when it comes to shoes....Packing her room that day she had three pairs of shoes, if I remember it correctly.  I have, well......more than three pairs.  My sister and I speak our own language, my aunt calls it being 'Windtalkers.'  (Our whole family has been corrupted by movies......)  I'm ready to see my mom, or as someone once referred to her, 'the other half of my act.'  Some mothers and daughters can't be in the same room because they get loud when they start arguing.  My mom and I can't be in the same room because we get loud as we increasingly feed off of each other.  Then there's my dad.  Every girl loves her dad, but my dad is also my 'very good best friend.'  I remember sitting on the tailgate and watching dry lightning on summer evenings.  Or sitting on a fallen log in the middle of a swamp talking about how scared I was about having to make big decisions about what to do with my life.  Or the time in elementary school when I got sick and he stayed home with me-he sat me down in front of the t.v. with a constant supply of soup, crackers and orange juice and put on the all-day marathon of "Ripley's Believe It Or Not."  Last year we went to Williamsburg together and visited the original Ripley's museum.  It was kinda 'full-circle.' Then there's the man-cub and the queen.  I've kept all of their voicemails archived on my phone and listen to them on my way to class.  And sometimes on my way back.  I have the valentines they made me on my fridge and looking at them is the best part of my day.  There's also my brother in law, who's really just my brother, since I never had a brother and he stepped right into the role of big brother to me.  He knows just how to aggravate the crap out of me sometimes, and I think that's a pretty good sign that he's really, truly my brother.  That and the fact that I couldn't talk to anyone of the male persuasion for years without some disapproval being expressed.  He's coming around, though.  I like where I am now, but I also haven't been able to kick the habit of my family.  Really, to be honest, I hope I never do.  I don't think there's any rehab for that, anyway.  So, the chorus of the "Sloop John B" is for my family.  No matter where I am, no matter how much good a change has been for me, "I feel so broke up, I wanna go home."  Love you guys.  Always. 

(I know it's not a good idea to put pictures of you/your family on blogs that aren't private, but just this once I'll take the chance because these are some of my favorite pictures of me and the queen.  Don't have any of the man-cub because he's an experiment in perpetual motion.  And I just realized I have no pictures of me and the rest of my family.....I guess because my mom and I are usually on the other side of the camera, I get my genetic loathing of having my picture taken from my dad, and my sister is usually wrestling miniature people away from potentially deadly situations......)

(She's so going to hate me for this in a few years....)