Now There are Two of Me, Oatmeal Times Reports

Now There are Two of Me, Oatmeal Times Reports

IMG_1343.JPGShe was the first to tell me: “There are two of me.”

It was over the oatmeal I learned it.  She leaned over the crisp wrapper, stripping it with her teeth, and the Captain’s lid sputtered off, tumbling onto the dirt floor.

“I’m sorry?”
“There are two of me now.”  Buckle and crumble, she doubled over laughing. I had to admit, it was pretty funny.

My old friend, whom I had not seen in a scarce few weeks, had evidently sprouted a fascinating new problem in my absence.  She scooped the lid off the floor and hastily smashed it back onto the oatmeal box, but left it just ajar. Lifting the corner of the lid, as if the tube were smiling at us both, she smirked like the box and said again, Yes!  Two!  Me likey!  You likey?

Oatmeal Times.  That was the first thought I had.  What if there were some newspaper chronicling events that had occurred at the very instant of the opening of oatmeal boxes, all around the world?  I felt confident that our moment, this one here, would surely rank at the top of the most interesting, a moment in which my friend of 24 years was notifying me over oatmeal that she had, in fact, recently joined forces with some other being between her ears to form a new, amalgamated her, but one that still liked oatmeal.  At least that was still true, if nothing else.

Then: “Squares. No sugar.  Only squares.  That’s how I like my oatmeal.  Old, dried, in the pan, all smooshy and caked, and then cut into squares.  Oh, and cold.  Old, cold squares.”

Now there are times in life when a great tragedy befalls someone we love and the cracks in their mind crash into their thoughts, and the obvious tragedy overwhelms their soul.  But this was not that time. This was more that moment when you realize someone you think you know has behaviors so aberrant as to render them almost hospitalizable.  Eating plain, old, hard, over-mushed, squared oatmeal is certifiable, or at least, if I were in charge of the world it would be.

“Wait, let’s get back to the two of you.  What the?  Whozzit?”

I’d caught her mid-caffeine and she laughed until coffee threatened to tipple out her left nostril.

“Yes, oh yes. Two.  I found out I have another personality when I took a personality test this weekend and I had to use two pieces of paper. It’s true.”

“Annnnd, what is your other you’s name?”

“Haccccckginnnnet and..P…Ph…it’s…Yes. Hackginget.”
“Hackginget. Your name is Hackginget.”

“Er.”

“What?”
“Hackginger. There’s an ‘er’ on the end.”
“I see. Does Hackinget -“
“Er. Hackginger. Ly.  Hackgingerly.”
“Hackgingerly?  What the fuck.”
“Don’t swear in front of me. Her. Don’t swear in front of her. She’s Mennonite.”
“Sorry?”
“No need to be sorry. We can have different views.”
She returned her gaze to the innocence of oats, resting, calm and grainy, in their tubey bed. In a blurry blaze, her hand (her own hand, I presume?) snatched the box and flipped it, upside down, the entire oaty world skittering and screaming (perhaps) to the floor.  Her boney tall dog appeared from nowhere, her tongue, longer than my arm, leaving only a wet trail beneath her where the oats had surrendered their will to live just a nanosecond before.

Blink.  That is what I do when I am sure I’m in a dream.  Blink.

I tried this my usual 18 swift times to determine if perchance I was asleep, but my eyeball on reality was too slow.  Before I could reach 15, she was laughing the guffaw of the very mad.  Shiny eyed, she joined the dog on the floor, rolling her eyes heaven-ward.  Patted the dog. Wiped the floor. Smacked my feet with both hands.

“Oatmeal?”

©2014 Anjani Millet
Writing Prompt: Open the Box
Written with Phrin on 7/25/2014

Context:
We were both on Google Hangout writing when she discovered she had two windows open and was getting an echo. Normally we both mute ourselves while writing. I noticed she was whispering to herself and hadn’t muted herself so I began to sing back to her what she was humming. She lurched forward with great concern and said, “I’ve muted myself, but now there are two of me!”

The part about the cold oatmeal is true. She likes it cold, stiff, unsweetened and cubed.  Bleech.

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Ten Ways to Show Yourself You Care

Ten Ways to Show Yourself You Care

Tess and Janilaal Flower Crown

Janilaal Celebration Crown and Sneaky Fork Moment. ©2011 Anjani Millet

We work hard. We give well. We love deeply. But do we remember to appreciate our own open heart and generous spirit?  Take a moment to love and notice what you did, thought, felt, said, or gave last year that is a testament to the excellence of your spirit.  Take a few minutes to appreciate the person you have become. Here are a 10 ways to show yourself you care, and to mark the achievement of becoming the person you have become.

Ten Ways to Show Yourself You Care

1. Flowers. Buy yourself some!

2. Take yourself out on a date. But before you do, dress nicely, buy yourself flowers (see number 1), and consciously note why you are doing this: because you are wonderful. 

3. Write down private thank you notes to you from you, and stick them in pockets – coats, pants, shirts. Offer little thoughts like, Thank you so much. I love how loving you are. I love your generous nature. You have made me laugh.  You took such good care of the family this year. Thank you!

4. Send yourself a gift. Log on to Amazon or other gifting sites and send yourself a token of your appreciation. Get it wrapped!

5. Mail yourself a lovely card, signed by hand. We all love getting things in the mail, especially hand-written notes. Who does that for you anymore?  You do.

6. Foster a relationship with your future self by hiding money you’ll find later. My favorite gift for myself was a $50 bill I hid in a book I knew I would get to, but not for awhile. A year later, when I finally got around to reading it, I had completely forgotten about it when the money fell out onto my lap. It was an amazing feeling of gratitude for my former self and a connection across time, from that moment to the one in which I first placed the money. It made me cry.

7. Make a backward-in-time chart to note the things about this moment that are because of something wonderful you once did or decided. For instance, earlier this year I looked around my family and realized my daughter, and her family now, all came from that moment in high school in which I took a dare and talked to her future dad.  I appreciate the young woman I was!

8. Share with a friend the 5 best things about you, and ask them to do the same about themselves. Then, make a toast to the hard work you’ve both put into being a great person, and how well you’ve succeeded.

9. Lipstick and mirrors. Write a note in lipstick on your bathroom mirror about how charming, lovely, or hilarious you are. Love the love notes. They are fun to wake up to.

10. Be kind in thought and deed. You know you are kind to others, so do unto yourself as you would do unto others – practice kindness toward your own mind and soul. Guard your thoughts, and remember what your mother taught you: if you can’t say something nice to yourself, don’t say anything at all.

Congratulations on being you!

-Anjani

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Step Away from the Melon Baller

Step Away from the Melon Baller

Step Away from the Melon and Walk Away Slowly

Step Away from the Melon Baller and Walk Away Slowly

Step Away from the Melon Baller and Walk Away Slowly. Nurse Ron protects the largest fruit in the room.  What a protector!
No fruit was harmed in the making of this image.
Photography by Anjani Millet
Model Ron Cole
Assistant Andrew Rutherford
#EndangeredFruit #SpecialAgentWatermelon #photography #portrait #humor #quirky #webstapick #anjanimillet

from Instagram: http://ift.tt/1zCLTj0

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Open the Box

Open the Box

Mysterious Oatmeal, ©Copyright 2014 Anjani Millet

Oatmeal Question. ©2014 Anjani Millet

She was the first to tell me, “there are two of me.”

It was over the oatmeal I learned it. She leaned over the crisp wrapper, stripping it with her teeth, and the Captain’s lid sputtered off, tumbling onto the dirt floor.

“I’m sorry?”
“There are two of me now.” Buckle and crumble, she doubled over laughing. I had to admit, it was pretty funny.

My old friend, whom I had not seen in a scarce few weeks, had evidently sprouted a fascinating new problem in my absence. She scooped the lid off the floor and hastily smashed it back onto the oatmeal box, but left it just ajar. Lifting the corner of the lid, as if the tube were smiling at us both, she smirked like the box and said again, Yes! Two! Me likey! You likey?

Oatmeal Times. That was the first thought I had. What if there were some newspaper chronicling events that had occurred at the very instant of the opening of oatmeal boxes, all around the world? I felt confident that our moment, this one here, would surely rank at the top of the most interesting, a moment in which my friend of 24 years was notifying me over oatmeal that she had, in fact, recently joined forces with some other being between her ears to form a new, amalgamated her, but one that still liked oatmeal. At least that was still true, if nothing else.

Then: “Squares. No sugar. Only squares. That’s how I like my oatmeal. Old, dried, in the pan, all smooshy and caked, and then cut into squares. Oh, and cold. Old, cold squares.”

Now there are times in life when a great tragedy befalls someone we love and the cracks in their mind crash into their thoughts, and the obvious tragedy overwhelms their soul. But this was not that time. This was more then moment when you realize someone you think you know has behaviors so aberrant as to be almost hospitalizable. Eating plain, old, hard, over-mushed, squared oatmeal is certifiable, or at least, if I were in charge of the world it would be.

“Wait, let’s get back to the two of you. What the? Whozzit?”

I’d caught her mid-caffeine and she laughed until coffee threatened to tipple out her left nostril.

“Yes, oh yes. Two. I found out I have another personality when I took a personality test this weekend and I had to use two pieces of paper. It’s true.”

“Annnnd, what is your other you’s name?”

“Haccccckginnnnet and..P…Ph…it’s…Yes. Hackginget.”
“Hackginget. Your name is Hackginget.”

“Er.”

“What?”
“Hackginger. There’s an ‘er’ on the end.”
“I see. Does Hackinget -“
“Er. Hackginger. Ly. Hackgingerly.”
“Hackgingerly? What the fuck.”
“Don’t swear in front of me. Her. Don’t swear in front of her. She’s Mennonite.”
“Sorry?”
“No need to be sorry. We can have different views.”
She returned her gaze to the innocence of oats, resting, calm and grainy, in their tubey bed. In a blurry blaze, her hand (her own hand, I presume?) snatched the box and flipped it, upside down, the entire oaty world skittering and screaming (perhaps) to the floor. Her boney tall dog appeared from nowhere, her tongue, longer than my arm, leaving only a wet trail beneath her where the oats had surrendered their will to live just a nanosecond before.

Blink. That is what I do when I am sure I’m in a dream. Blink.

I tried this my usual 18 swift times to determine if perchance I was asleep, but my eyeball on reality was too slow. Before I could reach 15, she was laughing the guffaw of the very mad. Shiny eyed, she joined the dog on the floor, rolling her eyes heaven-ward. Patted the dog. Wiped the floor. Smacked my feet with both hands.

“Oatmeal?”

©2014 Anjani Millet
Writing Prompt: Open the Box
Written with Phrin on 7/25/2014
Context: We were both on Google Hangout writing when she discovered she had two windows open and was getting an echo. Normally we both mute ourselves while writing. I noticed she was whispering to herself and hadn’t muted herself so I began to sing back to her what she was humming. She lurched forward with great concern and said, “I’ve muted myself, but now there are two of me!”

The part about the cold oatmeal is true. She likes it cold, stiff, unsweetened and cubed. Bleech.

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The Fine Art of Donut Negotiations

The Fine Art of Donut Negotiations

Antique Kitchen Tools by Anjani Millet.jpg

To visualize your future kitchen, simply step into that kitschy donut store over there and look to the right, where you’ll find the gnat-sized office. Find the guy with the beard at the counter. Order one filled donut – lemon jelly – and one of those nut brown, cakey, raspberry glazed beauties, and a big cup o’decaf. After you almost forget to sign the receipt, lay the news on him.

Tell Mr. Bearded Donut he can choose: either he lets you photograph his old timey kitchen accoutrement, and that you covet said wares something chronic, or you’re moving in next to the fax machine. It’s always best to leave them with a choice.

The rest of your work is simple:

Shoot.
Sit.
Sip.
Munch.
Marvel at your unreal negotiating skills.
Munch some more, and don’t let up – you’ve got giant things to eat, whose purpose is to animate your insulin.
Sip loosely until you seem full.
Munch again anyway.
Enter sugar coma.
Post.

-Anjani

Coolest Hot Coffee in Seattle

Coolest Hot Coffee in Seattle

Cup of coffee on blue chair

Hot Coffee, Blue Chair, Spring Day

I’ve found it: the very best coffee in all of Seattle. Tony’s Coffee on Phinney Ridge has coffee tastings routinely, and their coffee is sensational.  My loving tribute here: Cuppa Joe in Blue.
from Instagram: http://ift.tt/1gsfXbf

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Laptop at the Teahouse

Laptop at the Teahouse

20140408-004309.jpg
Laptop at the Teahouse. Copyright 2014 Anjani Millet

One of the things I love the very most about Seattle is happening in this photograph.

A long time ago, when I moved away from Seattle to New York City, I met for coffee with my childhood friend Jennifer, with whom I my grew up in Washington state. She had long since become a New Yorker.

I put my bag down in a chair for 2/8th of a second while I retrieved my coffee from the clutches of the bitter barista. Jennifer grabbed my arm faster than a New York minute (loosely defined as, when driving in NYC, the span of time between the light turning green and the car behind you honking).

She said to me,  “We’re not in Seattle anymore! You cannot EVER do that again you in New York, ok? You must not ever leave your things laying about in New York – even your purse on the floor inside the stall of a public bathroom while you’re inside it. Someone can reach under the stall door, nab your purse, and leave with it. And what are you going to do about it? They will run off with your stuff, and be on the b-train before you can even get your pants up. You follow?”

I did. But today I was in Seattle. In fact I was working in my very favorite teahouse, and this is what I discovered in the sunny corner next to me: Little Louis Laptop, alone. Owner was in the bathroom, dropping drawers right at that moment while her laptop waited, unscathed, for her to wipe and wander back.

I love that in Seattle, she could go to the bathroom and leave her shiny Mac, just begging to be stolen. As is often typical, she didn’t even ask anyone if they would watch it for a moment until she returned. She didn’t need to, and I love that.

Anjani

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Pretty Blue Bowls Make Everything Rosy

Pretty Blue Bowls Make Everything Rosy

Blue Dishes

The holy grail of grownup life is figuring out what to do with our lives.  I heard once that finding work doing what you do every day for free anyway is the best way to have a happy work life.  For me, shopping for interesting, often used but beautiful objects is so much fun. This week, to prepare for some upcoming food shoots, I found some gorgeous new things, like antique spoons and new but old looking blue dishes.  I can’t wait to shoot these!

-Anjani

Anjani Presenting Photography at Pecha Kucha’s “Food is Power (And it’s Also Delicious!)”

Anjani Presenting Photography at Pecha Kucha’s “Food is Power (And it’s Also Delicious!)”

Food is Power - and it is Also Delicious!  Presented by PechaKucha and the Pike Place Market@ Pike Place Market – Economy Market BuildingI’m thrilled to be invited to present my new work (all about food!) atPechaKucha’s

I am thrilled to be invited by PechaKucha to present my new work (all about food!) at their next event:

Food is Power (And it is Also Delicious!)

Thursday December 05, 2013
5:30pm – 8:30pm
FREE
Pike Place Market, Seattle
1433 First Avenue
SEATTLE Washington 98101
Website
 

Please join us for this fun and delicious evening, all about food!

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