Sunday, May 29, 2005
Strawberries
It's that time of year again. The glorious late spring, when strawberries are in season. To me, food indulgence doesn't get much better than a nice juicy strawberry.
My lovely wife, however, doesn't eat strawberries. I don't know why. She says "I don't like them," but she hasn't eaten a strawberry since she was 4 years old. She has no idea what they taste like. It's a Green Eggs and Ham scenario. I was so distraught when I first learned of Shelly's strawberry aversion, that I almost considered breaking up with her. But somehow I was able to overlook this personal defect, and we got married.
This afternoon, I was standing at the sink washing and cutting the tops off a two-pound container of strawberries. And finally, the arguments Shelly has been making all along really got through: More strawberries for me. If I had a normal wife, I'd have to share these strawberries, and I'd only get one pound. If I had a wife who loved strawberries as much as I do, it might come down to fisticuffs. But there is no competition in the house for my strawberries. I can eat as many as I want, whenever I want. And that's a very good thing. Shelly proves once again to be the ideal wife. No wonder I love her.
My lovely wife, however, doesn't eat strawberries. I don't know why. She says "I don't like them," but she hasn't eaten a strawberry since she was 4 years old. She has no idea what they taste like. It's a Green Eggs and Ham scenario. I was so distraught when I first learned of Shelly's strawberry aversion, that I almost considered breaking up with her. But somehow I was able to overlook this personal defect, and we got married.
This afternoon, I was standing at the sink washing and cutting the tops off a two-pound container of strawberries. And finally, the arguments Shelly has been making all along really got through: More strawberries for me. If I had a normal wife, I'd have to share these strawberries, and I'd only get one pound. If I had a wife who loved strawberries as much as I do, it might come down to fisticuffs. But there is no competition in the house for my strawberries. I can eat as many as I want, whenever I want. And that's a very good thing. Shelly proves once again to be the ideal wife. No wonder I love her.
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