Fear Factor
I’m so traumatized right now I don’t know if I can even type this.
Ok.
This is even funnier if you keep in mind I have a degree in zoology. Yes, really. And not from one of those fax-yourself-a-certificate outfits on the Internet.
So I’m home today, nursing a migraine and feeling like I want to hork up a goat. I scavenge the contents of my fridge and make myself a nice bowl of greens topped with an ad-hoc tahini dressing I throw together, along with generous dashes of sesame and poppy seeds.
Crunch crunch crunch. Happy happy happy. Declare myself culinary genius with tahini dressing.
Then I spy a large blurry form that doesn’t look very lettucy or poppy-seedy or tahini-blobby. I squint and half-a-beat later, let out a rip-roaring scream that brings Chekhov racing into the room. He cocks his head to the side. “Mrr?”
“CHEKHOV THERE’S A CATERPILLAR IN MY SALAD AHHHHHHGETRIDOFITHELPMEAHHHHHHH…”
Chekhov sits on the hardwood floor.
“AHHHHHHHHELPMESOMEONEAHHHHHHHHOHKILLMENOW….”
Chekhov starts to groom himself.
I realize I’m on my own. I take a step forward toward the salad—
—and with a loud yelp take a flying leap backward.
Time for some Dutch courage: I eat half a bar of (organic, fair trade) chocolate.
“Ok, you can do this. Think of it as a pre-butterfly. You like butterflies? They’re pretty. Pretty butterflies. You should see this as being poignant and tragic because it never got to become a pretty butterfly.”
“Be logical. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s dead. And the worst thing that can happen is that you die, right? And that’s good because then you won’t ever be bothered by creepy crawlies in your salad. Death GOOD. So it’s a win-win situation.”
Logic and I aren’t exactly bosom buddies. In fact I wouldn’t even go so far as to call us passing acquaintances. If Logic saw me from across the room at a tea social, Logic would quickly make up an excuse to use the ladies’ room and then climb out of the bathroom window to make her hurried escape. Such is our estrangement.
It takes me another 5 minutes of bouncing back and forth like a drunk, cussing kangaroo (after seven riotous rounds of “Waltzing Matilda”) before I do anything remotely constructive.
I call the hub on his cell and proceed to shriek into his voicemail until it cuts me off. Bite me, T-Mobile.
Finally, I grab my longest pair of straight knitting needles, lay out a piece of newspaper, and squeezing my eyes tight but not so much that I can’t see at all, pick up the offending leaf of lettuce and drop it onto the newspaper. Then, like a woman possessed by the infernal armies of Beelzebub, I scoop up and crumple up the newspaper and HURL myself toward the kitchen trashcan, dry heaving all the way.
I’m going to pass out now, thanks.
juanita said,
July 14, 2006 at 4:35 pm
Eeeeek! Chills down the spine!
I would have just dropped the entire bowl into the bin.
(I am afraid of butterflies -no matter how pree-tee they are- ‘coz THEY WERE ONCE WORMS!!! !!! !!! Eee!)
Kathy said,
July 14, 2006 at 4:36 pm
First of all, what are the odds of one person hearing two separate and unrelated references to Waltzing Matilda in one day? Second of all, while I can’t top the horror of catterpillar-on-lettuce (Have you read Harvest For Hope by Jane Goodall? She can, and she wasn’t even in Africa at the time), I did have a horrifying experience in the garden once. I was pulling up massive basil plants for a pesto-to-end-all-pesto and was basically having a total woman-of-the-earth moment with these giant fragrant bushes in my arms, when I looked down and realized that one of the plants was LOOKING BACK AT ME WITH HUGE EYES. It became instantly clear that I’d harvested a tomato hornworm as well. His nice evolutionary defense was so effective that, despite the fact that I am far larger than the intended predatory recipient, I immediately screamed like a little girl, hucked my precious basil into the dirt, and proceeded to dance around the garden waving my hands uncontrollably, wailing the heebie jeebies to anyone who would listen. The whole lot got composted.
Liz said,
July 14, 2006 at 4:49 pm
The good news? Presence of a creepy crawly in your salad tells me for sure that those greens were organically grown, and you didn’t get ripped off. Bright side, Jasmin. Must look on the bright side.
stephanie said,
July 14, 2006 at 5:00 pm
I guess I won’t tell you about my childhood trauma involving a can of creamed corn, some sort of wormy thing and the microwave. Creamed corn was a staple of my diet as a kid but I haven’t eaten it since!
Candice said,
July 14, 2006 at 5:10 pm
I also had a horrifying insect experience this morning. When closing the garage door (the little one, not the one for the car) I spotted a HUGE beetle just inches from my face. I’m talking a nasty looking, longer than an inch brown beetle with little pincher looking things that was just staring at me with it’s beedy little…ok I didn’t actually see eyes but dear god was it gross. So I squealed, ran away, did the that’s so gross dance and wheeled my garbage to the curb.
I had to look at the monster one last time before getting into the car too. Made me do the gross dance AGAIN. Kind of creeps me out just thinking about it now. *shiver*
But I must tell you, the way you describe situations is truly most hilarious. You have a gift my friend.
eireann said,
July 14, 2006 at 10:24 pm
okay, it’s all I can do not to hop around clenching up and going ERK ERK ERK hufiwhduaihbsuiagcsucysdg! after reading this.
yuck!
Adelin said,
July 15, 2006 at 12:28 am
I recommend keeping, in the house, a bug jar. A baby food bottle (with bottle cap) is probably just the right size to trap bugs before freeing them into the wild! Free! The baby food bottle I’ve had has worked for multiple spiders, bugs of various descriptions and saved many a roommate from shrieking.
Although… my friend Joanne once bit into a sweet potato and found a *half* of a massive bug inside. Where the other half went? Her mouth.
Major EW!
Amy said,
July 15, 2006 at 12:53 am
Don’t feel bad, I turn into one of those screaming jumping chimps when I try to garden. I hit a centipede nest this past spring when I was clearing a flowerbed by our house, oh my god, I ran and screamed like my hair was on fire.
At least it wasn’t IN my salad. Bleh!
meranie said,
July 15, 2006 at 2:35 am
I wish I were your neighbour, because I LOVE insects and wouldn’t have minded taking him off your hands. I have actually coaxed a live and angry hornet or wasp out of an office, took him downstairs and outside onto a green bush, using only a piece of paper and a bit of gentle Japanese. =)
This little bugger (no pun intended) was dead, but I guess the only things that creep me out are bleeding. Or meat.
Brianne said,
July 15, 2006 at 3:27 am
I had a similar experience once and ended up just hurling the entire bowl of greens out the front door and cleaning them up in the morning. Kudos to you for keeping it somewhat together.
mim said,
July 18, 2006 at 11:28 am
I found a moth in my sald made form greens form my CSA las tnight.. Still alive…hmm and I did wash those greens I swear. Poor thing could not fly though….probably became some lizards dinner. That is life in the food chain. I still ate my salad, and try no to think of all the extra unseen protein I am eating.