Dating? Learn How to Use Chopsticks

Shannon Kernaghan chopstick-final-400 Dating? Learn How to Use Chopsticks Adventure Challenges Dating Food Fun Humor Lifestyle Love Parties Relationship Risk Sex Sex and Food

Why can’t dating come with instructions? By instructions, I don’t mean a how-to book. There are enough texts on the subject, all trumpeting slick advice on how to meet, marry and mate.

The moment you stand in a bar and pertly balance your Chocolate Martini, you’ll forget the reams of advice.

Taking a deep breath, you’ll wonder, Am I supposed to approach the guy or wait for him to make the first move?

Next, the confusion will be, Do I look at him invitingly or ignore him? Dammit, I’ve read so much advice that I can’t remember if I’m supposed to yin or yang!

Now step away from the Self-Help section and relax. What works for one person doesn’t work for everyone. Instead, concentrate on making the most of the gifts you already own, such as your wry sense of humor, your patience and your take-no-prisoners method of deadheading the delphiniums.

Everyone has strengths and those strengths will be attractive to the right person.

In my world, finding a partner should be as uncomplicated as the instructions on a chopsticks wrapper, sealed for your sanitary protection:

LEARN HOW TO USE YOUR CHOPSTICKS.

Ignore the written instructions and go directly to the illustration of a hand and a set of chopsticks, a Kama Sutra for the utensil-challenged.

TUCK UNDER THUMB AND HOLD FIRMLY.

It’s tough to meet a quality partner and then parlay those fun dates into a long-term relationship because people have skyscraper-high expectations.

When a journalist interviewed a 21-year-old university student, he admitted to measuring all the women he meets to actor Angelina Jolie. Good luck with that.

ADD SECOND CHOPSTICK, HOLD IT AS YOU HOLD A PENCIL.

I prefer my day, like dating, to unfold with simplicity. For example, I recently watched a documentary on ghostly hauntings and poltergeists.

The narrator explained how these frisky ghouls are known for their disruptive behavior, all to grab the attention of us earthly beings. I watched film footage of plates rattling and crashing to the ground.  

If I’m ever graced by poltergeists, I’ll quickly set out some ground rules . . . make that ghoul rules.

“Listen up, you vaporous squatters,” I’ll shout into the ether. “If you plan to float around my property, at least make yourselves useful. See those dirty dishes in the sink? Wash and dry them, and carefully put them away. There will be no crashing or breaking. Got it, Casper? Good!”

I’ll be a tough taskmaster with my poltergeists, the same way I’d be with any new partner. I don’t have time to ghoul around.

HOLD FIRST CHOPSTICK IN ORIGINAL POSITION, MOVE THE SECOND ONE UP AND DOWN. NOW YOU CAN PICK UP ANYTHING.

Did I say chopsticks were uncomplicated? Not according to the stained front of every shirt I own.

Like chopsticks, I wish more people came sealed for my sanitary protection.

And as for finding the right person? Throw away the instructions, baby. It’s as easy as picking up that last grain of rice in the bowl.

Audio version music
“Jamlet”
by Coolzey

Look Out For the Rats

Shannon Kernaghan Look-Out-for-the-Rats-400 Look Out For the Rats Belongings Childhood Comedy Family Fun Gifts Humor Lifestyle Memories parents Pets and Animals

I discovered a few rats downtown, and last weekend I brought three of them home with me. They’re not real rats (or married people who pocket their wedding rings when going for a drink after work), but art rats.

A nearby gallery recently held a one-year anniversary and celebrated by selling donated art to raise money for the artist-run shows.

The gallery showcased a roomful of rodent-themed pieces designed from paint, ceramics, wire and needlepoint.

I’m not overly welcoming towards rats, unless they’re the cartoon or stuffed animal variety. But I do like to support our determined artists.

It takes exceptional people to bare themselves for public critique. And it takes courage to enter a creative field when there’s no guarantee of gain or glory. But try they must.

Besides, how many rat sculptures can you create and give to your mother before she stops accepting deliveries? Good thing we have our galleries.

It’s an indisputable fact – artists create because they must.

Why such admiration? Because I’m a left-brain thinker and can’t draw a convincing stick figure. I don’t even have a consistent signature when signing my name to the back of my ID and credit cards. 

My first artistic foray most likely involved Popsicle sticks, gold glitter and glue that ended up everywhere except the target. Years later, my high school dalliance with textiles resulted in a crooked gingham apron that only a mother – the same one with rat ornaments lining her curio cabinet – could love.

I appreciate those who pilot a potter’s wheel or wield a welding rod. For that reason, I’ll continue to collect and cherish their creations.

Will I end up with a Banksy Girl with Balloon piece that sold for $1.4 million even though it was partially shredded at auction? Who cares. I buy art because I like it.

For our wedding, my sister gave us a sculpted piece, a weird little monster named Theobold who wears a turtleneck and holds a cup in his gnarly monster grip. I’m happy to say that the marriage has fared the storms of time better than Theobold.

Although I try to be careful, poor Theobold has been broken on four or five occasions. Last summer he fell off a ledge while I read in a chair several feet away.

Luckily, I’ve retained good gluing skills from kindergarten. As for any financial appreciation over the years, Theobold has too many missing pieces to ever increase in value, but I’ll never say good-bye to him.

Please, no one send me a Rodin sculpture for my next birthday – if my monster is jumping off his ledge, just imagine the trouble The Thinker will get into.

Hang on . . . now my new clay rats are starting to eye me with suspicion. Better buy more glue.

Audio story backing track
Mind and Eye Journey
by
Emily Sprague