I probably only have about three innate good habits. By that I mean, something that comes naturally to me that is, in fact, good for me. I mean, I have a lot of enforced good habits – keeping a relatively tidy house, responding to my email promptly, and being impeccably polite to service people. But those are all issues I have to work at.
So anyway, the habit I’m thinking of now is that I love vegetables. And no, not in whatever weird way you’re thinking, pervert (that would be you, Abbi-Felching-Queen)! I mean I love buying, preparing, and eating them. I think I inherited this from my mother who, like me, can get emotional over a good cole slaw or perfectly steamed broccoli. God knows my dad and brother only eat vegetables the way seagulls eat vomit: “Hey, it was there!” P.S. Onions are not a vegetable, they are foul. My whole life has been about people trying to force or sneak onions on me (thanks for that too, Mom!).
This afternoon I’m sitting on the bus with my kids who are squirming and wiggling and (occasionally) yelling and punching me in the face. But I’m feeling mellow because I have a soundtrack – in this case, Brian Eno, the Raveonettes, Beulah, etc. I’m making a mix tape for my sister, who’s going abroad in a few days. I have the headphones in, testing the mix tape’s flow. It’s like having a little dose of downers. I smile indulgently at my horrid, unruly children as I hum along to Ivy’s “Undertow”.