Friday Five: Matters of Taste

Songbird posts:

"My mother loved figs. I only like them in a Newton. It's all a matter of taste. Name five things you like a lot that some close relative or significant other did/does not like. This could be food, movies, hobbies, music, sports or whatever springs to mind."

OK, here goes:

1. Meat, fish, seafood, poultry. My DH is a lacto-ovo vegetarian. This sometimes make food preparation and dinner planning a challenge ... but she's worth it.

2. Sushi. Last week when I was eating at our local sushi place, a little old lady of the blue-haired variety came up to me, looked at what was on my plate and asked, "Is that really raw?" I smiled at her, and pointed to various delectibles on the plate with my chopsticks. "Well, this is raw ... and this, and this, and this. But this, and this, and this, and this isn't raw." She smiled at me, and said, "Well, it takes all kinds, I guess ..." and wandered back to her teriyaki chicken.

3. Jazz. DH doesn't like jazz because she thinks that most of it is chaotic. I like jazz because I know from personal experience that it is challenging to play, that to play it, one must think outside of the box and be prepared to ad lib. Jazz repertoire is a common language among its players and listeners. Jazz is rare, because innovation, imagination, flying by the seat of the pants and "rule" breaking are universally rewarded. That virtuosity is rewarded goes without saying. If the Church Universal could be described in terms of musical genres, we're called to be Jazz ... but some of us settle for Muzak or Top 40 Pop ...

4. Grits. Hominy Grits, the Breakfast of Southern Champions. Someone, probably an uninitiated Yankee, once referred to grits as being "wallpaper paste with sugar and butter." Emeril Lagasse, on the other hand, tells us that the only difference between grits and polenta is the price ... I like my grits with butter, salt and freshly ground black pepper. Cheese grits are a special treat.

5. Genealogy. The last time that DH and I drove home to Texas for a visit, we took a detour from I-30 onto US 82 so we could swing by the cemetery in Reno [Lamar county] so I could visit my ancestors. As we were trooping through the graveyard, and I was explaining to her that "this is grandfather so-n-so," she responded, "Honey, I can't keep up with your living relatives, much less the dead ones."
Oh.