One of Grant and I's favorite sayings is "There is no accounting for taste". (we also like "There is no bottom" but that is a different blog post) We say this to each other when we are watching people do or wear or eat things that we would never in a million years dream of doing, wearing or consuming. It is our way of staying classy whilst we judge others.
He says this to me when I am giving him the sideways stink eye while he is eating a Sausage McMuffin with Egg on a road trip. "There is no accounting for taste. Don't judge me just because you don't want one".
I say this to him while I am perusing a celebrity smut rag standing in line at Target. "There is no accounting for taste. Just because you read the Economist doesn't mean you can judge me for caring that Angelina is pregnant again and wondering in my head what she looks like naked after birthing and raising 27 children".
You really cannot explain why things turn you on. Why certain people choose to put themselves in less then desirable situations because they just really dig what is happening and wouldn't choose the easier path if it meant they couldn't do what they are doing. Grant truly cannot understand why we are cloth diapering our children, particularly when he watches me (literally) up to my wrists in baby poop rinsing off diapers in the toilet. I just like cloth diapers and don't even think about not doing it. The fecal matter that occasionally splashes out onto my jeans is just what happens when you use cloth diapers, so I go change my clothes without annoyance. It just is what it is. I can give you the economic and ecologic reasons why I like cloth diapering, but the bottom line is that I just like it. There is no accounting for taste.
Other things I like. Local food and farmer's markets. Burts Bees. Knee high socks with boots. Food magazines. Kurt Vonnegut. Babywearing. Small confined spaces. Beer. Watching Pursy eat a pancake. My old slide keyboard dumb phone. Red toenails. Coffee in mugs. Parallel parking. Shelf bra tank tops. Knox's breath in the morning. Hemmingway.Trail running. Grant's beard. I could go on, but these were the first things that come to mind.
Things I wish I liked or that would make sense if I liked them. Whole Foods. Starbucks. Pilates. Juicing. Not having a TV. Rachel Ray. Kindles. The Walking Dead. Olives. Mommy and Me yoga classes. Flossing. Reusable water bottles.Valentines Day. Downton Abbey. One Hundred Years of Solitude. Politics. Herbal tea.
Who can explain why they like what they do? The people I have met in my life that I enjoy the most are those completely unconcerned with whether or not their taste preferences make sense with who they are and spend their time just liking what they like. The only space I really feel comfortable doing this in is music. Grant will follow me around the house asking repeatedly what I didn't like about The Dirty Projectors and all I can say is "I like what I like.". Then I will stand in the grain aisle of Trader Joes for 4 minutes wondering whether it will look cooler if someone opens up my pantry and sees white rice or brown rice.
I prefer local, slow, natural foods without GMOs, hormones and fake additives. I just want to eat food in as close to it's organic state as possible. I care about whole grains and prefer minimal processing, so long as it doesn't take me 4 hours to cook dinner because I was in the back yard hulling and milling. It would make sense for me to choose brown rice. But I love white rice. There is no accounting for taste. And if you open my pantry you will see brown and white rice. But the brown rice is in the front. And I move it every time to get to the white.