Wednesday, January 17, 2007

The citrus crisis of ought seven

Good lord.

I knew we were in for a roller coaster with this global warming thing, I mean I knew about possible shifting in thermohaline circulation, I knew about the rising waters and the paradoxically desicating earth, but NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT THE ORANGES.

Ruined! They're all ruined in California! What kind of God allows this to happen?

I know this sounds silly, but please, try to understand the role fruit plays in my life. (Hint: It's a big one.) We spend about half of our impressive weekly grocery bill on fruit - and I'm usually so desperate for it that by the time we've pulled out of the parking lot, my glasses are sticky and I've got peels in my hair. When I'm home working, I'll eat between five and ten pieces of hand fruit (that's right...hand fruit) daily, and, if I've got access, an unflattering number of grapes and berries. I consume entire canteloupes and pineapples at a single sitting, I hide bananas in desk drawers, I could be lured to capture with kiwis, if I were given a Golden Globe for best actress in a musical, I would thank every fruit individually including obscure tropical ones that I only know the (dirty) colloquial name for. I ate a year's supply of blueberries in three days...

And winter is a critical time - there is not much in the what am I going to do without oranges?

(Don't tell me orange juice, either, orange juice for oranges is like Czarina (sweet duck's blood soup with egg noodles) for roast duck.)