Posted 9:09 pm Saturday, August 18, 2012
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Green eggs and ham; On trying new things
By Rebecca Hoeffner
rhoeffner@tylerpaper.com
Sometimes you can be so sure you don’t like something that it comes as a shock when you find that maybe you do.
rhoeffner@tylerpaper.com
Sometimes you can be so sure you don’t like something that it comes as a shock when you find that maybe you do.
My family and I were visiting my cousin’s new apartment in Houston a couple weeks ago when her roommate’s Chihuahua mix scampered up to us to investigate. Her name is Olive, my cousin told us.
I immediately cringed inwardly; I am a big-dog girl at heart. Give me a Rottweiler, a Labrador or a Golden Retriever and we’ll be pals. The weariness little dogs create for me is amplified by their affinity for high-pitched barking and their hyperactivity.
But Olive didn’t bark once as we settled onto the couches. She greeted everyone with a few licks before surprising me by settling quietly onto my lap, occasionally nuzzling her head on my knee as I scratched behind her ears. I caught my mother’s eye as I muffled a squeal of delight at my adorable new friend.
My cousin’s roommate found Olive on the street one day in December. My family all gasped at the thought that someone could dump a little dog to fend for itself, much less in the dead of winter.
We were all quite taken with her. I kept trying to figure out how I could sneak her in my purse and how much I would have to pay for a pet deposit at my apartment.
“It’s like she understands how good she has it now, because she had it so bad before,” Dad commented.
As silly as it is to think about being prejudice against Chihuahuas, my affection for Olive surprised me so much that it made me stop and think.
What else — or Heaven forbid, who else — have I written off?
In the movie “Runaway Bride,” the main character, Maggie, goes through a litany of grooms that she leaves at the altar, each very different from the one before. When a reporter comes to write a story about her, he discovers a woman who is afraid to be her own person. She adopts the lifestyle — even the taste in food — of each of her fiancés.
“You are so lost, you don’t even know what kind of eggs you like,” he said. “With the priest you wanted scrambled, with the deadhead, it was fried, with the bug guy it was poached, now it’s egg whites only, thank you very much.”
“That’s called changing your mind.”
But Olive didn’t bark once as we settled onto the couches. She greeted everyone with a few licks before surprising me by settling quietly onto my lap, occasionally nuzzling her head on my knee as I scratched behind her ears. I caught my mother’s eye as I muffled a squeal of delight at my adorable new friend.
My cousin’s roommate found Olive on the street one day in December. My family all gasped at the thought that someone could dump a little dog to fend for itself, much less in the dead of winter.
We were all quite taken with her. I kept trying to figure out how I could sneak her in my purse and how much I would have to pay for a pet deposit at my apartment.
“It’s like she understands how good she has it now, because she had it so bad before,” Dad commented.
As silly as it is to think about being prejudice against Chihuahuas, my affection for Olive surprised me so much that it made me stop and think.
What else — or Heaven forbid, who else — have I written off?
In the movie “Runaway Bride,” the main character, Maggie, goes through a litany of grooms that she leaves at the altar, each very different from the one before. When a reporter comes to write a story about her, he discovers a woman who is afraid to be her own person. She adopts the lifestyle — even the taste in food — of each of her fiancés.
“You are so lost, you don’t even know what kind of eggs you like,” he said. “With the priest you wanted scrambled, with the deadhead, it was fried, with the bug guy it was poached, now it’s egg whites only, thank you very much.”
“That’s called changing your mind.”
“No, that’s called not having a mind of your own. Maggie, what are you doing? Do you really want this guy to drag you up to Annapurna for your honeymoon? You do not want to climb Annapurna.”
This week, I mentioned to our entertainment editor that I didn’t like old country (a word of advice: never dismiss an entire genre in front of someone who writes about art for a living. They’ll almost certainly challenge you on it).
Turns out I like Jerry Reed. Who knows how many other older country musicians I like without even knowing.
I also love my newly discovered recipe for eggs in purgatory (cook eggs in a skillet in tomato sauce and top with parmesan cheese. Yum).
So, dear readers, march bravely into the strange unknowns — and even the things you think you know — with an open mind. Life is much more fun that way.
This week, I mentioned to our entertainment editor that I didn’t like old country (a word of advice: never dismiss an entire genre in front of someone who writes about art for a living. They’ll almost certainly challenge you on it).
Turns out I like Jerry Reed. Who knows how many other older country musicians I like without even knowing.
I also love my newly discovered recipe for eggs in purgatory (cook eggs in a skillet in tomato sauce and top with parmesan cheese. Yum).
So, dear readers, march bravely into the strange unknowns — and even the things you think you know — with an open mind. Life is much more fun that way.
