JAN: As I mentioned yesterday, I'm reading this terrific book, The Well and the Mine (recommended by yesterday's guest blogger, librarian extraordinaire April Cushing), by Gin Phillips. In it, there's a scene with a little girl, Tess, who may be the main character (still hard to tell). She's about nine years old and in one scene, the family is eating tomatoes off the vine. She thinks tomatoes are "happy and cheerful," dislikes lemons as "pouty", and says peaches are "flirts."
It's such a perfect little girl view of the world, but I realized, even all grown up, I still anthropomorphize in that way. I had the hardest time throwing out my poinsettia this season, because I kept thinking, she was the belle of the ball when I brought her home, and can I really just ditch her because she's danced too long at the party?
I feel that way about pretty much every house plant I bring in that starts to fade from my neglect. Just because she's down and out, can I really just toss her? (see above photo.)
I consider one of my guitars as a yet-to-be discovered starlet and the other (a flawed Martin) a celebrity actress who never had talent. Like Ava Gabor or her sister. One of my tennis rackets is a trusty mate. The other is an elderly East German gymnast.
You get the picture. Or perhaps you get the nonstop anecdote. The point is, I'm constantly making up stories about way too many inanimate objects. And I wonder.... am I merely out of my mind or is this just the mind of a writer??
HALLIE: I think there's a diagnosis for this. No, I do not think my frying pans are talking to me. Or my curtains or hand sanitizer. But I do get into the birds that come to our birdbath. Sometimes there are as many as 6 little sparrows perched on the edge while a seventh takes a dip, and I imagine I can hear their bawdy comments or offer to hold little towels for each other.
JAN: Does anyone else find themselves anthropomorphizing? Is it an occupational hazard? Or a mental diagnosis as Hallie says??
And the plant above is a cyclamen -- which needs water. Is it time to bite the emotional bullet and throw her out?