I Want to be Just Like Honey Badger

I'm sure everyone has seen the honey badger video on You Tube. This really bad to the bone critter, called a honey badger, is shown fighting snakes and other critters and is totally fearless and ready to take on anything. The best part of the video is the narrator who comments on all of honey badger's antics. It really makes me smile every time I see it. Honey badger is brave and strong, nothing stops him from doing what he's got to do, and he doesn't care if anyone is angry about it either.

You Tube video

I could use some of that honey badger spirit in my personality mix. Yesterday, I must have literally been in the path of every angry person on the street and in a store. I was honked at because I wouldn't turn right on a red with a big sign that says, "No turn on red." I was also nearly run down by a car while crossing the parking lot at Lucky's. (Guess he had to go get him some McD's in a hurry.) I did some window shopping at the Home Goods store and another shopper blocked the whole aisle. When I asked her if I could get by, she huffed. How rude, it's like she had a problem breathing or something. I have a right to go down any aisle I like, and yet I felt like a rude shopper for barging past her loaded down cart. I really felt bad enough to not ask the next shopper if I could get by, I went around the other way to see the rest of the aisle. What would honey badger do? He wouldn't bother with it, he'd probably eat the stuff in her cart, push his cart down the rest of the aisle and not cared that she was annoyed.

If I was honey badger I wouldn't get my feelings hurt, or feel bad about my own shopping, or even guilty if I took an egg from someone's nest for lunch (ewwww). I would definitely, in my honey badger way, have asked meanie shopper to please, move over, I need to get by. The honking car would not have made honey badger go faster or break a law. Honey badger has rights and so do I.

I need to feel brave, even on days when I feel like a coward. I need to stand up for myself and really keep on my mission. I'm just as important as anyone one else on the road, in the crosswalk, or in a store.

Honey badger has a list of stuff he has to do, just like me, and he doesn't have time for mean four leggers or two leggers. Honey badger just keeps going, eating stuff, fighting critters, eating more stuff, finding a place to sleep off the bite from a poisonous bug, and he never gets his feelings hurt or feels guilty. If he crosses paths with a mean snake, or an angry animal, he just keeps going. Honey badger could care less what others think. He's got honey badger duties and if you don't like it, just move along.

Trash

I love trash. I should say, I love to find unusable, unwanted clutter and throw it in the trash. There's a certain pleasure in cleaning off a counter enough to actually get out the Windex and polish the counter. Or clean up all that junk mail and recycle it, of course, enough to polish the piano or the coffee table. That's when you discover the color of the counter (grey) or that the wood on that coffee table is really pretty.

I also love to push the wheelie trash cans out to the curb, full to the brim. (Or ask my very strong son to do the pushing.) I've been known to go looking for more clutter if that trash can is not full . . . there's always more. The kitchen, for instance, always has a soda can or box or even the Sunday paper spread out all over the counters. Does it breed or are there little trash fairies that leave all that stuff everywhere?

Today is post trash day, the wheelie cans happily empty, all the contents on the way to the recycle center or the dump. They sit awaiting my chore of finding more clutter, recyclables, or just plan junk to fill them up again. I noticed this morning over flowing trash cans in the bathrooms, the kitchen, and my bedroom trash and I'm sure my Stamp Studio has an over flowing recyclable receptacle as well. Oh the joy, the satisfaction!

It's not joy when your husband discovers you've thrown something of his away. It's enough to make him breath funny and maybe even swear with words like, "darn you, woman!" And that's a lot since not much can make the husband even a teeny bit mad. So I try and avoid throwing things of his away.

One day I noticed his dresser over flowing with receipts, tools from the garage, batteries, change, and Boy Scout papers. So I spent an hour, returning the tools, bundling the receipts with a rubber band, and filing the Boy Scout things in the box purchased just for this purpose. Then I retrieved the Pledge and gave his dresser a good dusting. I returned a few knickknacks my husband loves, like his little Buddha and his change container.

When he returned home, after a hard day at work, he trudged up the stairs and started to change into his shorts and a tshirt. I found him staring at the top of his dresser, mouth open. I asked him what was wrong, I just dusted his dresser . . . he looked at me and said, "what did you throw away??" I replied, with a very straight face, "you tell me."

You know, he couldn't tell me. I could have left him wondering for days, but I did tell him where all his things were and that only a plastic bag was thrown away. I was worried he would start guarding his treasures or putting more things in his car. His trunk is stuffed with treasures he's afraid I will throw away. I know this because I went grocery shopping in his car once and I had to put the groceries on the front seat since there was no room in the trunk.

Just to be clear, I rarely actually throw anyone else's things away. Basically I have enough of my own to go through. However, if it's an eyesore, or in a public area . . . beware, my wheelie cans are empty.

The Watermelon Suicide Mission

I just realized I have not updated my writing blog in months and that's just plain sad. All these funny things happen to me just beg to be written down for someone's reading pleasure! Since the last blog was about shopping, perhaps we should continue the theme with a memorable shopping adventure at our local Safeway store a few years ago.

You may not know this, but your shopping cart will only work while you are inside of Safeway. If you load your cart up and try and take a runner out the front door without paying, that puppy will lock up tighter than daddy's wallet on allowance day.

Now, I was thinking on this particular day, if you were smart, you'd just pick up the goods and run/walk/saunter out that auto door and no one would be the wiser, right? Well, except if I chose to take things I hadn't paid for and I'd have to return the items to the store immediately before my conscience locked up on me. But I digress.

I had no children with me on this particular shopping day. Just myself and a hot cuppa coffee from Starbucks, which is why I shop at Safeway, even after this particular shopping day was over. I picked up some fresh bread and pasta for dinner and then headed over for milk (we always need milk no matter how much I purchase). Last on my list was a green salad so I headed to the produce aisle and noted the price of the seedless watermelons were really low and  how good would that be with my spaghetti feast?

I thumped and tapped and made a good show of picking out the perfect, juiciest watermelon. I gently set him in the child seat in the front of the cart and proceeded to the check out.

The lines were long at the regular registers but I'm one of those strange people who love the self check aisle. If a child is with me, they touch the scale or sit on the place the groceries go after being scanned and the machine locks up, the red alarm light on the top of the machine starts spinning and the machine keeps screaming, "item removed from bagging area, replace this item." I even imagine the voice emitting a loud, "you messed up the machine!!!!"

This time though, it went perfectly as planned. I scanned and placed those yummy looking dinner ingredients in my own reusable bag. Then I picked up the watermelon and turned to place him on the scale and this is where the story goes terrible wrong and does not end well for the poor melon. This watermelon was NOT leaving the store, he slipped, end over end and to my horror, splattered and smashed his red innards all over me, the machine, and the shoes of the customer behind me.

Can you say, "Clean up on aisle . . ." What aisle is that? Clean up at the register, some fool just murdered a melon? Anyway, the very nice clerk was right there with a mop and the poor, dead, suicidal watermelon was carefully cleansed from the surfaces and the clerk said just go and pick one out. My receipt was good enough to just leave after that.

So, I wheeled the cart around and headed back to the melon aisle. This time I picked up one I remembered from before, not even whispering what happened to his brother melon. I firmly wedged him into the child seat and headed for the exit, quickly since the front of my pants were covered in red, juicy melon guts.

That's when chaos broke out and I realized that the wheels of these special, shop lift proof carts, can only be unlocked once you pass the register. In the self check aisle, that would be the main register where they can help you, if say, you decide to toss a melon on the ground (I swear he jumped).

The cart wheels locked up. Flashing red lights over both of the automated doors started swirling and the very annoyed voice that stops shoplifters in their tracks, clearly stated I needed to return to the nearest register to complete my purchase. I felt like a huge arrow was pointing at me and declaring me watermelon killer thief!

Luckily the staff at Safeway are incredibly nice and when I explained that I was just replacing a suicidal watermelon, my cart was kindly unlocked and I was free to go.

When I got home I decided to not wait for dinner to sample some fresh watermelon, I dug into my juicy watermelon with a sharp knife and a spoon. I was taking no chances there would be another melon suicide on MY watch.