A friend recently posted on Facebook that she was going apple-picking with her family. I smiled at the thought.
But then another thought occurred to me. I really don't like apple-picking.
I've been apple-picking. I think it's kind of boring, and I don't care much whether I've actually plucked an apple from a tree or not. What I like is the IDEA of apple-picking. I like apples, and apple crisp and apple pie. I like the ride to an orchard, on a crisp, sunny fall day. I love the little country orchard stores, with their jams and jellies and handmade crafts, the aroma of cinnamon in the air.
But I really don't care to pick apples. It tends to be colder under the trees, and the ground is covered with mushy apples that I don't want to step in. I prefer to buy a bushel that has been picked and packed for me back in that cute little country orchard store.
And this made me think about other things that I don't really like but I so desperately WANT to -- because of the ideas and images and rituals attached to them. Here are a few of them:
What's not to love about tea? I love everything about tea, except for, well, drinking it. I love teabags, steeping in hot water, their artsy tags dangling. I love the amazing, exotic array of tea flavors. I love loose tea, and those adorable infusers that actual tea-drinkers get to use. I love tea packaging -- seriously -- those Republic of Tea canisters are irresistible. I love tea-drinkers (Fran). They are consistently hip people. But alas, I really don't like tea.
Major League Baseball.
Young athletes in uniform. Joe Girardi (sigh). Ball caps, baseball stadiums, logos, team colors, competition. What's not to love? Except, for me, the game itself. This actually applies, in my case, to virtually every sport. I could not care less. Big balls. Little balls. No balls. Balls being thrown, kicked, tossed, hit, bounced, volleyed. Lines crossed, nets penetrated. It stirs nothing in me. But I love the IDEA of a ball game. I love a trip to Yankee Stadium! The iconic shape of the stadium itself, the fans all decked out in Yankee t-shirts and ball caps, Joe Girardi (sigh again). But the game itself? The score? I have to remind myself to watch while I am sitting there scanning the crowd in the hopes of seeing a famous person actually watching the game. (PS, Joe Girardi, if you are reading this, I am kidding, of course!! I live for baseball. Go Yankees!! ;o)
It comes in so many shapes and sizes and colors and preparations. Filets, claws, shells, caviar! Whole fancy restaurants are devoted to it. The best vacation places thrive on it. And it's good for you. I love watching Iron Chefs making everything from appetizers to dessert out of it. But yuck. Really. My palate just won't cooperate with my eyes on this one...with the unique exception of fried calamari, dipped in maranara (I know).
There are, of course many others... (classical music, exercise, meditation, yoga...) What about you? I am sure I am not alone in this. Happy Hump Day!!! :o)
|No seriously, Joe. I LOVE baseball. xox|