She Likes Coffee and I Like Tea

So, here I am at work, trying to catch up on paperwork, typing away, adding work order to the Excel Spreadsheet, when my fingers pause over this gem. I found myself typing this:

“Set up one of our projection screens in front of the Book of the Dead--”

…Dude, we have a Book of the DEAD?

Ok, ok, I know, I know. ‘But Nella!’ my public cries, ‘You work in an Armory; of COURSE there’s a Book of the Dead, there were a lot of chaps who marched off to war and who didn’t march back after all!’

And that is a very reasonable and logical point HOWEVER I’m going to pretend that it’s a necronomicon or some other Book of Dark Evil and enjoy my fantasy, thank you very much!


--Er…No Offense intended towards the Glorious Dead. *nervous grin*

But I feel like posting, and by gum, I've nothing else to talk about. But first, a rather longish explanation as to why this post came to be.

Today was one of those glorious, late summer days that happen on occasion here on Long Island--the sun was shining, the sky was blue, everything was still green, and any other ridiculously sentimental dribble you can add to the above, by all means do!

I was meandering around the porch, only to discover that some of the figs on the fig tree had ripened! Now, I ADORE fresh figs; in fact I was of the habit of picking them for breakfast off of a tree on the NYU campus in Florence the semester I studied aboard. And if you might be of the mind to say "Silly Nella, why would you do that!"; rest assured I asked the president of the study aboard program if that was alright, to which he gave a wholehearted "YES!" It turns out NO ONE ate the figs off of that fig tree, and all those delicious figs would fall to the ground and rot away every year. And as I am cheap, figs make for a marvelous breakfast. Positively delicious, nothing like a freshly ripened fig. If you don't believe me, come to my house and try them for yourself.

So, I picked what I could, and ate what I could (saving some for the rest of the family, as one shouldn't be too greedy with figs) and meandered onward to find that there were ripened Concord grapes in the back of the yard as well! This has NEVER happened before--for years, I've stared all summer at the green, hard grapes in anticipation of what ripened Concord grapes might taste like to no avail--alas, they have always be snatched up by birds long before I could enjoy them in their dark purple glory.

But this year, there are GRAPES in the backyard, fully ripened Concord grapes. Now, I am aware that Concord grapes are usually only used for the making of juices and jellies, but I picked as many as I could and ate them as I walked about some more. I can honestly tell you to not eat the skins. They are bitter like beach plum skins (also in season now, and down by Long Beach to those who like to pick fruit in public parks), but the first tentative bite is wonderfully sweet. Even the gummy middle, that reminds one of tapioca pearls, is sour and delicious.

So, as I was eating fig and grape, the thought kept rolling through my mind that 'all was right in the world, the fig was on the vine'. And even though I KNEW that FIGS don't grow on VINES (DUH), I couldn't help repeating this ridiculous mantra to myself. It took me a while, but I finally realized that my brain was foolishly combining two of my loves; the Jeeves and Wooster stories by Wodehouse, and the American Revolution.

( And if you don't understand how that could be, I've written this as the explanation, even if the punch line ended up FAR away from where I originally intended it to end. )