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Beloved has a hobby
Jul. 10th, 2009 10:43 pmThese are words to be uttered with deep and abiding dread and usually the cause of long term headaches.
See, Beloved is almost as obsessive as I. He will find something and obsess about it deeply and totally until it consumes every free moment and he will merrily pour resources into it and time and energy until you feel you have to stage an intervention to save him.
Now, he differs from me because he has the attention span of a concussed gold fish. My obsessions never let go. If his last a month then they’re setting records.
Basdically this means that he will, say, decide to become the bestest rock musician EVAH. He will buy a guitar (and it must be a top of the range, shiny shiny guitar), amplifier, computer equipment for recording and weirdness (don’t ask me. I can barely be trusted to burn CDs). he will make tortured, horrendous noises every waking moment for 3 weeks, I’ll have to pry that guitar out of his hands so he can actually eat and hit him on the head to make him sleep.
Then he’ll lose interest. Never again shall that guitar be played. He will then move to the next obsession - say, oil painting (complete with 10 billion colours, top of the range canvass, turning spare bedroom into a studio and considering making the window 3 times larger) and the guitar will be left for me to find somewhere to store it or, if I’m crafty, sneakily sell it.
I generally find this... quirk... to be a mix of horrendously annoying and endearingly cute (because he is SO boyishly excited and enthusiastic and damn passionate about whatever has caught his eye, you can’t help but smile). My usual role is to let him get on with it while running damage control (You want to learn the violin? What a good idea! Do you NEED to bid on that Stradivarius though? Really? How about this one? It’s shiny!)
Anyway, this spring, Beloved’s hobby was growing all our own fruits and vegetables (mainly tangenting off my obsession with not eating food that contains more chemicals than your average cleaning product). This is a good obsession because, other than stopping him trying to tear up the entire garden (yes yes, he did try) it required limited intervention on my part - and I could help him soap off when he got muddy.
Shockingly, this hobby has lasted several months. And we are now *gasp* harvesting the fruits of hisobsessive and inept soil poking labour.
But....
He wanted to grow EVERYTHING. And had relatively limited space. So he grew a little of everything That he wants to pick the minute they look ripe. Exactly what does one do when presented with 4 strawberries? How does one incorporate 2 carrots into a meal? What dishes uses 3 baby tomatoes?
I have a kitchen full of vegetables, fruits and salads. None of which are in sufficient quantity to feed a small, anorexic gerbil.
As an aside - what lettuce leaf tastes like extra-strong mustard anyway? *pokes it* It’s kind of green and purple and probably poisonous. We’re probably all going to die from poisoned green salads. That really sucks. I mean, if you’re going to die by poisoning the least fate could do was arrange it to be cheese covered bacon.
See, Beloved is almost as obsessive as I. He will find something and obsess about it deeply and totally until it consumes every free moment and he will merrily pour resources into it and time and energy until you feel you have to stage an intervention to save him.
Now, he differs from me because he has the attention span of a concussed gold fish. My obsessions never let go. If his last a month then they’re setting records.
Basdically this means that he will, say, decide to become the bestest rock musician EVAH. He will buy a guitar (and it must be a top of the range, shiny shiny guitar), amplifier, computer equipment for recording and weirdness (don’t ask me. I can barely be trusted to burn CDs). he will make tortured, horrendous noises every waking moment for 3 weeks, I’ll have to pry that guitar out of his hands so he can actually eat and hit him on the head to make him sleep.
Then he’ll lose interest. Never again shall that guitar be played. He will then move to the next obsession - say, oil painting (complete with 10 billion colours, top of the range canvass, turning spare bedroom into a studio and considering making the window 3 times larger) and the guitar will be left for me to find somewhere to store it or, if I’m crafty, sneakily sell it.
I generally find this... quirk... to be a mix of horrendously annoying and endearingly cute (because he is SO boyishly excited and enthusiastic and damn passionate about whatever has caught his eye, you can’t help but smile). My usual role is to let him get on with it while running damage control (You want to learn the violin? What a good idea! Do you NEED to bid on that Stradivarius though? Really? How about this one? It’s shiny!)
Anyway, this spring, Beloved’s hobby was growing all our own fruits and vegetables (mainly tangenting off my obsession with not eating food that contains more chemicals than your average cleaning product). This is a good obsession because, other than stopping him trying to tear up the entire garden (yes yes, he did try) it required limited intervention on my part - and I could help him soap off when he got muddy.
Shockingly, this hobby has lasted several months. And we are now *gasp* harvesting the fruits of his
But....
He wanted to grow EVERYTHING. And had relatively limited space. So he grew a little of everything That he wants to pick the minute they look ripe. Exactly what does one do when presented with 4 strawberries? How does one incorporate 2 carrots into a meal? What dishes uses 3 baby tomatoes?
I have a kitchen full of vegetables, fruits and salads. None of which are in sufficient quantity to feed a small, anorexic gerbil.
As an aside - what lettuce leaf tastes like extra-strong mustard anyway? *pokes it* It’s kind of green and purple and probably poisonous. We’re probably all going to die from poisoned green salads. That really sucks. I mean, if you’re going to die by poisoning the least fate could do was arrange it to be cheese covered bacon.