Habits
It’s been said that it takes thirty days to form a new habit and sixty days to break one. By that count, us krautHounds have either barely started our habit of blogging or have simply terminated a bad habit which only served to stroke our already fermented egos. Whatever the case may be, the clock is starting again. Now.
What makes us GO to our “go-to’s”? Do we think twice when we make that healthy decision to take our coffee black in the morning, or is it automatic? And to that end, do we deserve credit for actions which may be ‘out of our control’? Reaching for that bacon egg n’ cheese biscuit on the check-out line to some is an in-the-moment poor choice, while for others it’s pure habit. Quite like its healthy counterpart, it’s so blind, so unthinking, that it can be hard to place blame. Doing a hundred push-ups every morning is a habit, and so is slurping down two frothy glasses of Nesquik. Habits come in all shapes and sizes.
This is all leading to the ultimate question: that is, what happened to my kraut habit? Two months ago I was on the right track, seasoning my intestinal lining with the thing it most craves: kraut, baby, kraut. Week after week I was gobbling the good stuff down and reaping its kingly rewards on my porcelain throne. Then, somewhere along the line I lost the thread -- blame the holidays, blame the fat man in the red suit, blame god himself for Christ’s sake – the simple fact is, I’ve gone a solid month without masticating and digesticating my go-to, my muse -- my sauerkraut. I sung the praises of it as fervently as an ol’ puss like me could, yet still I could not make it a true habit.
So I suppose I’m questioning how habits in general are formed. Are certain people simply better at forming habits? And if you are a person who easily forms them, are you also easily formed in other ways? For instance, if you’re a good Mormon (like Elon Musk), could you more easily become a pack-a-day smoker – or a guy who does the cross-word puzzle - or could you at the drop of a hat turn into an avid speed-walker, high-steppin’ out every AM rain sleet or snow? Perhaps it’s that our habits are a function of what we grew up around, the people that raised us, the people we looked up to. One would hope that habits can be learned, but in a world where spontaneity and preparedness for change are so valued, plain old vanilla habit-forming can seem antiquated. And whether your habit is ‘good’ or ‘bad’, one must admit that in surrendering to any automatic routine, we are letting go of the reins.
A final question: are we our habits, or are we wat’s in between? Whatever the answer, we know that new habits die fast. If you don’t want to ‘die fast’ make it a habit to make kraut a habit you don’t forget. I’ll try too.
- SauerPuss
Not all habits are bad and not all habits require rehab. “Re-Hab”. Re-habiting a person’s actions or defaults. Habits are defaults, no? Habits are done without thinking. Habits become, at a point, the way someone or something is perceived. Habits become truth. Well boys and girls… gather ‘round cause this old Hound has a truth for you…
If you know an addict… if you know someone that is truly in trouble and they cannot find their way out of it, you understand the power of habit and the limitations of logic, love, and effort. I know an addict. I know a thing so cunning, that it has taken over our science and our psychology. Lactic Acid Bacteria are cabbage addicts. I care about LABs, their addiction provides so many benefits, so how can I confront them and dissuade their abusive behavior when it results in so much good? Are the ends worth the means? Judge me now for the blind eye I turn. And don’t deny yourselves the joy of the ends because of the means, for it is done and it is unavoidable. They find a mashed-up head of cabbage and they can’t help themselves. They chew and spew and I warn and scorn, but they don’t stop. They don’t even realize that by enabling the fermentation of cabbage, they are signing their own death warrant. If they could just stay away… if they could just say “no”, they wouldn’t have to be worried about being eaten by the apex animal. Sad as I am to say it, sauerkraut doesn’t put up much of a fight. From ground to grub, it doesn’t say a word. Now who are we to blame?
And here we are with habits. Two terrible habits and one good one. LABs – ruthless predators. Relentlessly feasting on the sugars of cabbage. Completely out of control. A lost cause of habits. They’ve become fixed.
LABs are the first habit, fixed and uncompromising… But we cannot do ourselves the disservice of ignoring cabbage’s habits. Imagine you’re cabbage and the big Harvest Dance is approaching. You’ve grown all year for this. Finally, the fruits of your labor will be measured. One by one, your friends get asked to the dance. Tomato is first to go. Ripe, red, and bursting, she didn’t leave much to the imagination. Then, Cucumber is asked by the high school quarterback with questionable sexuality, but it’s 2021 so fuck it, have fun. Eggplant goes with the scrawniest white boy in the class. But they all have dates. Even Lettuce mixes it up with some friends. Pictures and smiles for everyone. Everyone but Cabbage. Not quite tasteless, but definitely not neutral. Year in and year out, Cabbage gets left behind.
And now we bring it back… Cabbage – alone, insecure, longing… finds an underserving partner. A partner that habitually breaks Cabbage down. At its 10-year reunion, no one can recognize Cabbage. Tomato, Cucumber, and Eggplant all have little sprouts of their own, but Cabbage is something different. Something… pungent. Out of touch since high school, the gals could not get past the changes they saw in their old friend Cabbage. She look ragged.
Eventually they reconnected with Cabbage and they reminisced about that music festival they went to. “Cabbage, remember when you made out with that skeevy guy? What did he call himself? Lacto-something or other, yes? Ugh… he must have been the nastiest one at the show. What was his name?”
“Lactic Acid Bacteria, and I’m Mrs. Bacteria.” She says with shaky shame in her voice. Faces stare and conversation halts.
“HOT DOGS, HOTS DOGS HERE!” The silence is broken by the arrival of the caterer. Being a working-class high school, event funds were in short supply. The 10-Year reunion was only able to offer a hot dog cart for refreshments. The vendor, Grindy’s Meat Surplus was a discount meat purveyor and not much else. As the $0.25 hot dogs rolled off the heater, the lack of fixins caused a bit of a buzz, but it was the quality of the meat that would cause a scene. Chad Harley, the most popular boy in high school, was hit particularly hard by the spoiled dogs. Pulled by some deep popular boy confidence and instinct, Chad ran to Cabbage and bit right into her. The beaten and broken parts of Cabbage seemed to have given her some new kind of fortitude. Whatever Lactic Acid Bacteria did to her, it made her stronger. And it made those that ate her stronger too. Once the mouthful of Cabbage reached Chad’s stomach, the bad meat lost its edge. Chad, feeling again his athletic, virile self, stood up tall and hailed the room’s attention. “Hey everyone, come eat this woman! Come eat…” Chad looks at Cabbage and realizes he doesn’t know who she is. “What is your name, beautiful?” he whispers.
Cabbage, at a loss for words, stares blankly at the man she had always hoped would rescue her from the life she was mashed into. Chad didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he said the only name he knew her by, the diminutive name he used to call her in high school: “Come eat Sauerkraut!” But it wasn’t an insult any longer. As hordes of nauseous classmates lined up to eat Cabbage, they chanted “Sauerkraut, Sauerkraut!”
Under the name of Sauerkraut, Cabbage accepted the honor of “Best Person at the Reunion.” She let her husband drink himself stupid and left him passed out in an alley. She went back to Chad’s room and, for the first time in her life, experienced love. She filed for divorce the next day and now lives happily with Chad. Lacto has moved on to his next victim. Ever the addict, he feeds off of weakness. He breaks things down when they lose purpose. Breaks them down until they hit rock bottom. But the ones that survive… the ones that refuse to die, find a strength in them they never knew. They shed who they were. They discard the names of their past and the constraints that they imposed. And now embrace the name that was once a weapon, they’ve turned it against those that would hurt others. They have completed their transition. They have become, Sauerkraut. And taking a bad experience and turning into something positive… well this old Hound thinks that’s a habit worth forming.
- KrautHammer
