Musings from the Middle: Favoritism at its Best

by Cathy Allie

Some might call me picky, but I have reached a time in my life where I have clearly defined preferences. Yes, I can still make nice if things aren’t 100% to my liking, and I have learned the art of give and take.

But like good old Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, I have a few favorite things. I don’t expect a rush to buy any of my favorite things like when Oprah publishes her favorite things list, but I respectfully ask you to just give them a read.

Cardigans. They are practical, seasonal, easily layered, figure forgiving and sometimes flattering. It is possible that my rainbow assortment of cardigans appears matronly to some, but those same folks are jealous when I don’t get cold in the movies because of a comfy cardigan. I can pull my cardigan off and drape it over my head when a quick rain comes up. It is basically a robe without a tie. A good oatmeal colored cardigan makes everything match, right? One story says that cardigans were named after the Earl of Cardigan, so that makes them something royalty would wear, right? Somehow, I thought there might be a tiara in this for me.

Another story says that cardigan is a word used to describe a variety of a corgi dog with a long tail. So basically, it is like wearing your dog to work. My handsome pup would love just riding around on my body all day.

DIY shows. Look, the bottom line is that I have no technical skills that would allow me to complete even the simplest of projects. But a girl can dream, right? My heart races when they assemble the supplies, and I smirk when they make what seems like the most obvious measuring mistake. I love throwing around the terminology like MDF, raw measurement, budget range, big find, primer, ship lap and top-mounted horizontal tracks.

Chips and dip. If I can find one of those chips that gets folded over in the baking or frying process (oh, who am I kidding? It has to be fried...), those are the best dipping chips. The dip gets all nestled between the layers and makes the perfect bite. Tell me you are not salivating.

Foods that people just throw together that actually ended up being good, like chicken and waffles. The first time I saw chicken and waffles advertised together, I laughed out loud. But even as I was driving away, I knew I would try it.

I waited until a trip out of town just in case any locals made fun of me, so I was in Nashville when I sunk my teeth into a wing and poked a piece of syrupy waffle in my pie hole for good measure. Nirvana!

I have since served them at a Happy Hour where my buttoned-down friends, perhaps expect bruschetta or a vegetable platter and meatballs as munchies, hesitated only for a moment before launching into the sweet and salty treat.

Mauve lipsticks. They aren’t purple, pink, red, or brown but some weird combination of all of them that looks good on my face and makes my teeth seem whiter, so I don't have to try any of the home-made teeth whitening solutions.

Funky words like folderol and galded and simpatico. I try to use at least one or two of them a week at work so when people stop to ask me what they mean, and I can either a. tell them the truth or b. completely lead them off track on the definition and gleefully wait for the fallout when I hear them incorrectly use it later in the day with another coworker.

Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. They are youthful yet timeless, and they hint at athleticism, however no one really ever wears them anymore to compete.

The smell of suntan lotion. Yes, I know I am not supposed to look like the Copper Tone baby but it instantly evokes my lazy pre-teen days at the pool, where we eyed gangly pre-teen boys diving from the edges as they eyed us back, and where we ate frozen Snicker bars from the concession stand like a dying prisoner devours his last meal.

And speaking of prisoners, one of my favorite movies is the Shawshank Redemption. First, if Morgan Freeman narrates it, I am pretty much all in. Second, it encourages me. If good old Andy can make it all the way to the water to sail his boat by tunneling out one scoop of dirt at a time, I can surely get through rush hour traffic.

Gold hoop earrings. They are just dressy enough to make it look like I made an effort, and yet trashy enough to make people think I am wild. One summer I bought a pair of gold hoops that were about three inches in circumference. I was twice mistaken for a gypsy and darn, it felt good. I tucked them away when school started, ashamed of my checkered past.

Things with my initials. With my advancing age, initialed items help me remember my name, always handy. Second, when I wear them, they make me feel like I am at an Auburn vs. Alabama fall football game, where all the delightful, pink cheeked, well-manicured Reese Witherspoon look alike sorority girls are bopping through the tailgates. I have clearly read too many novels from overly whimsical Southern writers to have that clearly painted of a picture at my disposal to use.

Hymns where I already know all the words. If I am gonna bust out this lady tenor voice, it ought to be singing along with everybody else who also knows it in one gigantic discordant chorus, without having to glance up or down to catch a lyric. Stand by me some Sunday. I dare you.

Perfume samples. They are my favorites mostly due to my fear of commitment and buying the big size of anything. But I also love them because they remind me of the visiting door-to door Avon lady with her lotions, lipsticks, and fragrances.

Plus, I love to tuck them in my purse and have them break into little pieces when I toss my purse on a hard surface, only to allow me to reach my hand in and cut it wide open on a glass shard hours later. Luckily the alcohol base serves well as an antiseptic. Wouldn't a sarcasm font come in handy about now?

Violet Blue and other retired Crayola crayons. Yes, they retired some of my favorites, but apparently, they were no one else's fave. Violet Blue was the mostly stately yet understated blue that you could use for coloring everything from skies to the princess' ball gown to Santa’s eyes. All those beauties replaced with downright silly wannabes. Good old Orange-Yellow replaced with Bright Tangerine. It’s a travesty.

Really good under eye concealer, the expensive kind. I have varying types, everything that covers just a slight flaw to ones that could also work for spackling walls. I stay up all night writing columns and watching DIY shows, so I need balance for the deep, VIOLET BLUE shadows and eye bags I have going. Take that, Crayola.

Crackly turkey skin. Only about twice a year is this my favorite, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, when we are likely to roast a big bird. When it comes right out of the oven, I need just a sample of that crispy outer shell (which no doubt houses the dry white meat I have overcooked). Plus it grosses out my husband when I sample it, which tickles me just a little.

Some of my favorite things fall into the category of things that nobody else around here seems to even like at all, like pineapple on pizza and St. Louis Cardinals, but I stay strong and persevere in declaring my love for both. Sometimes I even combine them, like last year on opening day at Busch Stadium, when I ate Hawaiian pizza for my ball park snack instead of peanuts.

My list of favorites also includes Zotz candy that sort of explodes in my mouth; singer James Taylor, who I have seen in concert now 13 times; rib eye steaks cooked to just medium; the actor Sam Elliot, who has turned more heads than just mine; Christmas decorations of old, like bubble lights; my baby dog wearing a sweater, and Fridays off work, totally selfexplanatory.

But perhaps my very favorite thing is to turn a nothing thought into a column and tease you into reading it. You are welcome.

Cathy is a retired public school English teacher and Public Information Officer.