You can’t tell me you haven’t wanted to grab a handful, shake it around in your palm, and toss it in your mouth like a Dad eating sunflower seeds. Let’s just get that out of the way. The crunch potential alone is titillating. The textures? Endless. A bowl of orange peels, cinnamon sticks, and tendrils that look like special edition veggie straws just sitting there looking like a snack. And I mean that in every sense of the word. To be honest, aunts usually cannot be found eating, and sometimes I’ve thought that maybe this stinky centerpiece is the fuel they guzzle down in the dead of night.
It lives in the suburbs, so when I am confronted with its powerful energy I’ve usually been running on diet pepsi and ambrosia salad for the last few days. I’m between a rock and a hard place when I turn the corner and this bowl of delights stares back at me. Everyone leaves the room to play an uncomfortable round of Apples to Apples and my hand is magnetized to the bowl with the dried ones, shriveled and tan and perfect. I stare down the dry soup as my mouth waters and the dog in the corner starts to shake with the mere buzzing I’ve created in the room from my desire. The fact that I’ve waited this long is a testament to my personal strength.
Finally, I tossed it back. I sucked on the tiny sticks, and popped open the dry seedlings. Impeccable. Just as we all imagined. An experience that took Guy Fieri’s “mouth feel” to a whole new level. My only report is that you should follow your gut, lean into the intrusive thoughts, let the fumes take you away. It was like scooping brush off the ground of a Lord of The Rings set. It took me places. When I was a child I used to think I could see The Never Ending Story dragon, and the most sane thing I can say about this experience is that I spent an afternoon with him again. My energy was collected and cleansed in an indescribable light. I felt new, like a baby. I stirred on the couch hours later, blinking the beige tones into focus, feeling the plastic covering crunch beneath me on the couch. I had to speak to my Aunt. She nodded knowingly as I told her, with a smile so slight that my suspicions confirmed themselves. And guess what? Michaels. Two bags for $15.99 and they last MONTHS.