A Piece of Fruit

It's mid January and blustery and now I'd like to talk about fruit. In particular the way people ingest fruit. Yes, fruit. Yes I know that there's been tragedy in Massachusetts and Haiti. I know that Washington is being a little too reticent concerning the health bill at the moment, and Palin will always be unpalatable. I've already utilized FB for those platforms today. Quite frankly it's fruit that kept me up last night.

I believe fruit and the way you eat it can tell a lot about a person, but I'm not sure what. Both my dad and my husband cannot touch or eat a peach (Ooh I loved that album-"Eat a Peach") because of it's fuzziness. My dad liked it pealed and sliced in sangria and Larry likes it in cobbler but don't expect them to purchase them without gloves on. I cannot peal a banana and eat it out of it's skin. My friend was 45 when she realized you could peal an entire orange and eat it's segments whole, not just cut in fours out of the skin. What was she thinking and where was her membrane? Another friend loves my cupcakes, but please no coconut, and yet she drinks coconut water and says it tastes like the homely fruit lychee. My late father-in law and sister in-law turned down a slice of Ebinger's cake because it was laden with raisins, an aberration apparently inherited. Larry has reprogrammed himself and enjoys those tiny dried up- oh never mind. Why is it that only the crazies eat whole fruit in public? You cannot be invisible when your incisors are wrapped around a slimy core. You are a whole fruit exhibitionist in my book.

Apparently I am the diva of fresh fruit. Watermelon is off limits. The pits piss me off. I mean why don't we just have a one big watermelon party, I'll purchase the spittoon. Yee Haw!

Please, if we are to remain civil, never offer me an apple or any piece of fruit unless it is sliced and plated.