BLOBBY'S BLOG

Fruits of My Labor

I'm pretty sure this isn't supposed to happen to watermelon.


Let me rephrase: I didn't know this could/would happen to watermelon. But clearly - what do I know?

I bought this personal sized watermelon less than two weeks ago. Yes, I know - it sat around for almost two weeks, while I worked my way through a dozen plums and a half a dozen peaches. This also doesn't count my cherries and grapes.

I like fruit - so what? The food pyramid is loving me these days. I'm getting my RDA...and then some.

But a rabid watermelon? (now picture PeeWee Herman with toothpaste on his mouth going 'mad dog! mad dog!!' - or is that just me?)

What kills me is that our cleaning lady, Dangira, must have done something when she was cleaning to make it perforate. It's not that I care something happened to it, but then all she did was to put it on a plate - one which caught some of this weird coloured liquid.

Denton thought it would be ok to cut into it to see how bad it was. I did not share this same thought pattern. Just toss it, I'm thinking.

I have never had fruit hiss and spit at me before. When he stuck that knife into it, sounds, smells and liquid all came out and not in a good way. Sprayed, would be the word.

This is something I've never seen with fruit. I guess there's a lesson learned here - whatever it is.



On a completely other thought - three plus decades ago, my then-friend Anne (yes, she is no longer my friend - or i'm no longer hers - but it is a long complicated story) informed me that whenever you didn't know a word or entire line to a song, you can substitute the word 'watermelon' into it and it almost always fits. And it's true. Try it sometime.


Song by: Lucinda Williams