Just Lick It Up

Let me preface anything I now write by saying I embrace abnormality in numerous forms, gilding it thinly with a public veneer of normality. But I'm really a little off, I think. And I like people who are a little off. In a good way. No psychoses, please.

Having said that, I tend to enjoy and foster my own idiosyncrasies, at least the arguably amusing ones. It's what made me a good camp counselor; this way, it's like I never grow up. I'm like Peter Pan, but without all the pixie dust or the pirates (though there is always Ang...).

One day Jess and I were hanging out in my apartment. I poured us a beverage, then licked the drop that ran down the side of the bottle. She began to laugh and noted, "Do you know that you always lick things?" No, I hadn't noticed, actually. It's just what I do, likely out of laziness (it's easier than grabbing a paper towel) or perhaps an unconscious affinity with my tongue. My own oral fixation, possibly. I've never been a smoker and I gave up both nail biting and gum chewing years ago. So my poor mouth had to find something else to do.

Having no particular germ phobias (those were killed by years of camp counseling and subsequent traveling), the obvious and most practical solution was to become a very mobile clean-up crew. A small spill on the table? Voila! Taken care of! Food on my fingers? No napkin required. Ice cream in a cup? No way! Cone, please.

So there you have it. I've now eradicated any illusions you may have held of me being a normal adult. I shun normalcy. Nonetheless, I don't like to be strange alone; I want to be different, but not too different. So imagine my delight when I was at my friends Rob and Horyon's home with Esther and Kathleen the other day to discover a kindred spirit for this certain oddity. Not in Rob, though I consider him kindred in so many other ways as we are oddly similar. Not in Horyon, who is very well-adjusted, yet remains delightful and appreciative of strangeness. I found my kindred spirit, my bosom buddy (note the "Anne of Green Gables" reference), in Maxine, an 8 month old beautiful baby girl. I mean, gorgeous; not the kind of baby you say is cute simply because you hold an "all-babies-are-beautiful" policy. She is irrefutably, undeniably beautiful.

I was so excited because Rob dangled the promise of me getting to hold her when I came over. Incentive, indeed. Initially, she was a bit frightened by these new people in her home. Though acceptable from a distance, she began to cry when I got too close, a disappointingly universal effect I appear to have on babies. After some time, however, she seemed to sense our sameness and graciously allowed me to take her. That or her curiosity about my hair and jewelry finally overcame her trepidation. Regardless, after I took her I soon noticed that everything in which she had interest had to be first tested with her tongue. Hair, rings, fingers, watch, all needed to be licked. I'd upload the perfect photo now, but let's be honest, it's me we're talking about. Photos aren't working now.

Anyway, I was delighted! This wasn't just any baby, but a true soul mate. I now know that I am not alone as a licker. This makes it acceptable to me.

By the way, though I brought my camera intending to take pictures of the group, I only got ones of Maxine. Amazing the effect babies have.

Signing off,
Aub

PS. I think my somewhat addictive tendency is now focusing its full delight on this blog. Before long, I'll be spending beautiful summer days alone, away from friends, holed up in a dark, smoky PC Room writing more posts. Help me.