We were at Wal-Mart on Sunday and bought a pineapple. Eli was reluctant at first, but when I promised that I would be the one who would cut it up, he agreed. Now, I've never cut up a pineapple before. Eli told me he didn't want to do it because it was a pain. I figure that first of all, it can't be that bad. And second of all, wouldn't it be worth the taste of that fresh pineapple?
This morning (Thursday) Eli asked when I was planning to cut it up, so I came home today and tamed the spiky monster. I was going to look it up on the Internet to find the best way to slice and dice, but I'm still dealing with that pesky virus and didn't feel like taking the time to look it up (however, I did feel like taking the time to blog about it--go figure). The pineapple had a tag on it with some pictures of a pineapple in the various stages of undress, but no words that clarified. So, I took a stab at it (ha!) and diced that pretty pineapple up.
There is nothing to compare with fresh pineapple, and I wonder why it took me to 29 years to cut one up myself. Now, I can't stop thinking about pineapple kolaches from the Czech bakeries in West, Texas. I don't think this is a pregnancy craving so much as it is a reminiscent longing for pastries of old. Yum. When I'm home for Christmas, I don't really care how much gasoline it takes, but I plan to drive to West and get some of the sweet goodness. And I might stop by Baylor and get a new t-shirt (and maybe a onesie for Baby Beaver?). But mostly, I'm going for the kolaches. Stacey, you in?
1 comment:
You know I'm in. :-)
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