The Sensuous Art of Plum Picking

Plums from our backyard tree are incredibly sweet and juicy. I take them to church and put them in the kitchen, where we munch. If you stand outside the room you’d think they’re having an orgy in there. “Oooooh…ummmm…OMG this is sweet…ahhhhhh…just one more… ”

I wait for the Magic Moment.

It sounds like they’re making love, but they’re just in the kitchen eating plums I hand picked. Actually, “pick” is too crude a word. I don’t just pick them, I caress them. I fondle them. I squeeze each one very gently and if there is a softness, I tug it ever so slightly, tenderly, away from the branch. If it doesn’t come off with this gentle grope, I leave it on the tree. It is not ripe.

My husband is annoyed by all this. Frank is a no-nonsense, just-get-it-done kind of guy. He goes out with his bag and just indiscriminately grabs every plum he sees hanging. He pulls them forcibly, with lightning speed. “You’re coming with me!” I can almost hear him say. He’s done in a jiffy, and comes in the house with a big bag of hard, slightly green plums.

It’s easy to tell whether people are eating plums that Frank picked or that I picked. When they’re eating Frank’s, it doesn’t sound like there’s an orgy going on.  

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Amazon, no way!

“Excuse me, where can I find the chocolate truffles?” I asked the sales assistant.

Amazon sucks for buying books. It has to be done properly. I need real-life books to leaf through, chairs to sit on while leafing, and a café that has espresso and chocolates and people to chat with.

A trip to such a bookstore is still one of my favorite outings. These days, in my area, I have a choice between Barnes & Noble, or Barnes & Noble. There’s one 30 miles north of me and one 30 miles south. Fortunately I’m fond of B&N. It’s a survivor, like me. I’m 71 and my friends said I’d never make it this far. I used to drink a lot of wine. Today I eat a lot of chocolate. Yet here I am. 

Yes, I know, B&N is often more expensive than Amazon, even with Amazon’s shipping charges. I suppose I could go to Half Price Books or Rasputin, but they don’t have the café and the chocolate.

I prefer the B&N south of me. Traffic getting there is always heavy and getting heavier, but it’s a lovely drive along a beautiful freeway lined on the east with horses and rolling hills and oak trees and mansions. I cruise along contentedly listening to Tony Bennett – Lady Gaga duets.  

If B&N doesn’t have the book I want, I have them order it. They might even get it from Amazon for all I know, but that’s okay. C’est la vie! At least, that’s life for a plump, book-loving senior lady with a penchant for chocolate truffles and espresso (double long shots), who loves to chat in cafés with all kinds of people. And who still pays cash whenever possible.  

I hope B&N doesn’t suffer the common fate nowadays of brick-and-mortar stores, at least not before I myself float up to the great iCloud. As long as B&N is still with us, Amazon will just have to limp along without me.     

Grace

I woke up grouchy one morning, still tired. I pondered skipping my morning aerobics. Commitment! I told myself, then dressed and headed to my workout room. That was my first mistake.

I do an online aerobics routine on the British Institute of Health website. I turned on my computer, clicked on Chrome browser, waited…and what came up was “no internet service.” I restarted, went to Chrome again, got the same message. On my third try, the same thing happened so obviously it was not a temporary fluke. I was going to have to call my internet service provider technical help number, and spend a long time on hold then a long time doing the troubleshooting steps, but it would have to wait. I was barely awake. I couldn’t face computer troubleshooting without a shower and a cup of coffee.

I decided I would get my exercise in with a brisk walk. My neighborhood provides a good aerobic workout as there are some pretty steep uphill stretches. But when I looked out the window, I saw it was raining heavily. No walk today, I thought.

At a loss, I went into the kitchen and popped a Keurig pod into my coffee maker. Then I remembered I had a chocolate hazelnut croissant from Starbucks with my weekend treats in the freezer. Even though it wasn’t the weekend yet, I took it out and thawed it. I knew it contained 400 calories and 50 percent of my daily saturated fat allowance. I went for it anyway. I would double my aerobics routine when my computer was back up. 

I added Italian sweet cream to my coffee and sat down at the table. Savoring the chocolate hazelnut decadence and sipping my coffee, I started to feel pretty great. What had started as a growing list of frustrating problems had turned into the perfect morning.


Grace: the freely given, unmerited favor of God.  

Poor Man’s Keurig

A small coffee-lover’s miracle recently happened in my life. I love Keurig coffee but their single-cup coffee brewers are too expensive for me. So are most other single-cup makers. I’m at financial critical mass in my retirement. I seriously need to cut down on my spending and am following an airtight budget. The single-cup brewers are also large, and we have a small kitchen with limited counter space. Lastly, most brewers come only in black.

After a lot of shopping around,  I just sighed and figured I’d have to plod through my life without one…drinking boring old ground stuff…the same flavor for months until the container is finally empty.  

I got hooked on Keurig at my church, of all places, which has a big selection of pod flavors and a Keurig brewer in the kitchen. I thought about buying one and reducing my tithe accordingly. After all, the church got me hooked. But the better part of my conscience prevailed.

Enter Procter-Silex, with a single-cup coffee maker for $25.00!! I just couldn’t stop searching, and one day voila! There it was. It’s small and it does the job. I feel almost guilty, finding a single-cup brewer that cheap. Like I’ve outsmarted the gods. And another miracle is that it comes in white, on Target.com. It’s perfect in my kitchen.

My mornings are joyous. Now I go into the kitchen wondering, “What will it be today? Dunkin’ Donuts Dunkin Dark? Green Mountain Southern Pecan? Eight O’Clock Original?” The choices are infinite. And I usually drink only one a day so it doesn’t break the bank. I’m enjoying single-cup coffee just like rich people with big kitchens. And loving it.