Tag: raisins

The Darkened Grapes Dream

This was a dream with a sharp real feeling, startling me into confusion when I found myself in my bed after awakening.

I received a small brown box in the mail. Opening it were two things. Don’t know what one was but the other was a large bunch of green grapes in a plastic baggy. Receiving those really pleased me as I’d order them. From that, I learned that my wife and I were vacationing and staying a small room and bath in some exotic location. The building was small and meandering and seemed to be constructed of thick clay. My dwelling was painted pink but the one beside it was yellow.

A knock came on the door and then a large American opened it. He explained that they were next door. They didn’t have a bathroom and were told they needed to use ours. Sure, I told him. He and his wife entered. While he used the bathroom, we chatted with the wife about the place, inviting them to go with us as we went around so that they can learn of places we enjoy.

I showed them my grapes in their baggy. Then I opened the baggy. The grapes all immediately blackened and shriveled. I thought they were raisins but feeling them found that they were soft and mushy. I left them alone because I didn’t want to damage them. We left, taking the bunch of darkened grapes with me.

We walked around small shops. Shopkeepers and local people wanted to touch the darkened grapes wherever we went. They seemed in awe of them. We finally arrived at the small restaurant where we wanted to eat. We’d eaten there before, including the previous year. It was at the owner’s behest that I’d ordered the grapes.

I showed him the darkened grapes and told him what happened. Delighted, he asked if he could hold them, which I permitted. Holding them aloft, he explained that those aren’t grapes, and that I was very lucky to have these because they are very rare and special. I asked him to tell me what they were if they weren’t grapes. As he was embarking on his explanation, I awoke.

Sitting up in the bed in the dark, I shifted left and right, looking for him and my grapes.

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Raisins & Mushrooms

  1. One of today’s questions: does peanut butter come in a jar or a can? My wife and I are certain that it comes in a jar.
  2. The can/jar question rose because it’s time for the bi-monthly food donation to our town’s food pantry. Bi-monthly is one of those ambiguous expressions that often causes more conversation than it saves. “Do you mean twice a month or every other month?” Raised eyebrows often accompany the question, along with a still expectation as everyone waits to hear, which is it?
  3. COVID-19 has caused our food bank to decree “cans only”. Why not jars? I don’t know. They quarantine the cans; couldn’t they quarantine the jars? I haven’t researched the issue. Did I miss a Fauci about cans and jars? “By the way, jars are not safe. Cans are.”
  4. The food bank puts out a list of needs. On that list is peanut butter. That’s why we’re perplexed. PB comes in jars. Of course you’re going to need peanut butter if you’re only accepting cans. What’s wrong with you?
  5. Anecdotally, I’ve never heard or read someone say, “Go get me the can of peanut butter,” so I think we’re right on this. I wonder if they’re changing the way that we think of cans and jars, like they changed the way that we think of literally by changing the meaning because misusing the word became so commonplace that everyone agrees, easier to change the definition at this point.
  6. Guilt has set in. Others are raving and recommending television shows. I’ve tried them. I don’t like them. I want to like them, for their sakes, for the world’s sake. I feel like I’m undermining the social order by saying that, “No, I don’t watch that show. I don’t like it.” “The Tudors” was one of those shows. Friends raved about it. I turned it off.
  7. Among shows that underwhelm me are all reality shows. Never got into any “Survivor”. Yes, I do like the “Great British Bake-off”, or whatever its name is. I wore down my molars, gritting my teeth as we streamed two seasons of “The Masked Singer”. My wife wanted to see them all unmasked, even as she shook her head at the show and snapped, “If I hear them say that one more time…” She never specified the threat. She didn’t like hearing the hosts bubbling again and again and again, “That was wonderful. You’re amazing. Who are you?”
  8. My wife wants to make mushroom stroganoff. See, she likes mushrooms and she’s a vegetarian. I do not like mushrooms. They’re an abomination. I can accept them steeped in cheese and buried with real food on pizza. When I encounter them elsewhere, they remind me of slimy fungus. I do like mushrooms grilled on meat, or grilled with other mushrooms.
  9. The question is, will I eat the mushroom stroganoff? Sure, make it; I’ll try. If I don’t like it, I’ll eat something else. She’s bought the ingredients. She understand my mushroom dislike; she feels the same about raisins. Mushrooms are my raisins, if you follow.
  10. Food. We all need it, we all want it, we all might not like it.
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The Mid-Morning Treat

My wife made us energy balls yesterday. You’re probably familiar with some variation. Her no-bake recipe is peanut butter, dark chocolate chips, and oatmeal rolled up in a ball about one and a quarter inches in diameter. They’re about a two bite for me, so they’re a perfect little treat to have with a banana in the middle of the morning. I mean, banana, peanut-butter, and chocolate? That’s an awesome flavor combo.

Ha, ha, I kid. I love it but I know many don’t. One thing you learn quickly in life that the foods you love and hate aren’t the foods that everyone loves and hates. Example: raisins. My wife can’t stand raisins. I love raisins. Give me a cinnamon oatmeal raisin cookie, and I’ll be wagging my tail day into night.

No, not my wife. They disgust her. (smh). Meanwhile, she eats prunes every day. We both do. Lot of benefits to prunes, and they have a great flavor. I tell her, “Prunes taste a lot like giant raisins,” just to watch her reaction. Lips tight, she shakes her head in horror and denial.

She’s a big fig fan. Paul Newman Fig Newmans are our go-to grocery store cookie buy, but the wife loves fresh figs. Her eyes light up when we encounter them at the store. The price conversation then follows. “They’re so expensive.”

I shrug. “It’s just money. We have that money. Buy them.”

“Will you eat them, too?”

“Yes.” I do enjoy fresh figs as well.

“Okay, if you’ll eat them, too. Promise me you will.”

“I promise.”

I will eat one or two, to live up to my promise. She gets the rest.

Anyway, off to enjoy my treat (banana, peanut butter, and dark chocolate, remember?). Then I’ll wash it down with coffee.

Yeah, go ahead. Judge me.

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