1) I'm trying to toss a salad in a bowl that's too small. When I toss a salad, I like to do it with gusto, scraping the bottom the bowl to get all of the chopped goodies sufficiently coated in dressing. There's nothing like oil-and-vinegar-coated leaves of lettuce hopping over the sides of the bowl and getting stuck to the counter and floor, ignored by the dog, who doesn't do lettuce.
2) I tell a KuKd sister that I sometimes wish I were a mom, and they insist on assuring me that I AM a mom. It makes me feel pressured to go along with the shenanigans and say the right thing, like: "Oh yes, thanks for reminding me. I'm a mom. Now I feel better." It's not that I never feel like a mom. As I've said before, sometimes I feel like one and sometimes I don't. Being a stillbirth mom so defies our normal cultural definition of "motherhood," that I have trouble jumping on that train without any reservation. It's kind of like living in a wooden shack, and somebody telling me I live in a mansion. These sorts of mental shifts take time.
3) People try to force me to smile when they take my picture. I seriously don't like that. My mom does that all the time - "Smile, honey! Come on, smile!" - and I end up with a wholly unattractive, brittle smile with undertones of irritation. My friend KD has a beautiful, natural smile and perfect teeth. She is smiling in every picture I've ever seen of her, so she must be good at smiling on command. I'm not. My favorite pictures of myself are ones where somebody took the shot while I was already naturally laughing at something.
4) I bite into a mealy apple or nectarine, especially one that I've paid a bunch for at Pike Place Market or Whole Foods. Gross! Who likes mealy fruit? Anyone on this over-populated earth?
5) Measuring out Crisco - vegetable shortening, for those international readers who might not have Crisco - for recipes. What a gloopy, gloppy pain. And so hard to wash measuring cups with Crisco residue, what with the sponge turning into a Crisco-coated rectangle of uselessness.
6) Flipping through the radio stations on my 30-minute drive home from work, and coming across nothing - literally, astoundingly NOTHING - worth listening to. Just some tired classic rock (and not even songs I can get into), a bit of jazz (not the good kind, but the porn-movie background kind with lots of cheezy saxophone), obnoxious talk shows, a Miley Cyrus song here and there, and - on NPR - the Tuesday gardening show. What gives? This happened to me last week.
7) People having too many babies. I won't go into the octuplet thing again - it's a bit over-talked already - but COME ON, PEOPLE!
Any others to add?
Coming soon - the Steel Worker Boyfriend and more.