from Anne Montgomery
What that says about me is debatable.
Eighty-two percent of Americans form an
opinion about someone after viewing the contents of their refrigerator. I guess
that means folks are routinely sneaking a peek in the fridge, which, in and of
itself, is a little creepy.
Still, when I read the statistic, I just
couldn’t help myself. I bounded – in my mind I bound – off to the kitchen and
opened the door to see what the stuff in my refrigerator might have to say
There’s an awful lot jammed on those shelves –
some things, quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to look at too closely – so I
decided to list the foods that jumped out at me, figuratively speaking, of
Fifteen containers of mustard, all used at
some point and lining a door rack, stood out. Now I’m not a complete wack job.
They are different kinds of mustard: honey, spicy brown, sweet hot pepper,
Coney Island hotdog, roasted garlic, and Jack Daniels horseradish, to name a
“Mustard usage is strongest among consumers
age 35 to 64 and is also favored by those who consider themselves ambitious,
self-disciplined and family-oriented,” the article said. “Mustard lovers also
rate themselves as more shy than any other condiment-favoring group.”
All of that worked for me, accept the bashful
part. Shyness is simply not incorporated into my DNA.
Also in my refrigerator, just above the
mustard, were fourteen bottles of hot sauce. (Perhaps I’m a horder. I’ll have
to revisit this possibility.) Again, all containers had been previously opened.
They included Chipotle Tabasco, West Indian Hot Sauce, Brimstone Caribbean Red,
Orange Pulp Habanero, and Big Black Dick’s Hot Cayman Islands Rum Sauce. (It’s
a real thing, so stop snickering.)
Who craves hot sauce?
“If you are a man aged 18-34 living in the
south or west, you probably prefer hot sauce to all other condiment sauces,”
the above-mentioned article said. “You likely. . . are a competitive
risk-taker. . .(and are) more happy, ambitious, spontaneous and risk-loving
than other condiment users.”
While I’m a woman and the age bracket is wrong
– I’m 62, but I’m pretty sure I look much younger – the rest is spot on.
Elsewhere in the fridge there are two crisper
drawers, ostensibly for fruits and vegetables. And one does, in fact, house a
large array of colorful healthy foods. However, the other drawer is filled with
. . . chocolate: dark and milk, chips and cookies and my favorite toffee and
caramel and nut confections. Wee Snickers bars peek from the clear plastic
edges of the drawer. Multiple varieties of those chocolate slabs Trader Joe’s
elves place by the checkout counter rest, half eaten, in a pile. That drawer is
stuffed to the brim with sweet things, as if, perhaps, my unconscious mind is
prepping for the zombie apocalypse.
“A sweet tooth has been shown to be linked to a willingness to help people out, but chocolate lovers are also emotionally vulnerable,” said another online article. “They’re charming, flirtatious and may even have a penchant for drama.”
While the rest of the fridge was filled with the usual stuff – eggs and bacon and milk, myriad cheeses – I love cheese! – yogurt and containers of things that should have been pitched long ago – it was the wine I focused on. There are always a few bottles chilling, as well as others in racks around the house. (Think the aforementioned zombie apocalypse here. One be prepared.)
So, what does all this say about me? I haven’t
a clue. Unfortunately, the statistic did not come with an answer key, which
might have proved useful. So, I considered what mustard, hot sauce, chocolate,
and wine all have in common. What did I come up with? They’re all pretty much indestructible.
Really. Have you ever seen mold on mustard, hot sauce, chocolate, or wine? No!
of course not. They have the half-life of plutonium. Proof: I visited the
Cayman Islands nine years ago, which is when I acquired my Big Black Dick hot
sauce. And it’s still perfectly fine.
What this all says about me remains elusive. Perhaps you’ll have to come over, sneak a peek in the fridge, and tell me what think.
Please allow me to give you a brief intro to my latest women's fiction novel for your reading pleasure.
The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.
In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.
Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.
Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archaeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.
When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.
Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.