Anyhoo, Confession Tuesday is a feature I've found on some of the poetry blogs I read regularly, and it's kind of fun. It is what it sounds like. Here goes.
Dear Reader,
- I confess to having serious food co-op guilt. I joined the local food swap community online this year to get rid of our manic abundance of figs, which no one here likes, given their propensity to fall and splat on the patio, after which they start to resemble fetid little dog poops. There, I said it. But in exchange for the bags of figs I'm leaving out for folks to pick up, I'm receiving these amazing home-grown organic vegetables and other treats in return. Carrots, crookneck squash, swiss chard, herbs, goat's milk, and--this morning at breakfast--butterscotch blondies. I do NOTHING but collect the figs. I don't even OWN the tree--it's a rental like everything else here. And I feel a certain amount of guilt at taking people's hard-won goodies in exchange for what I can only describe as freeloader figs. Yes, I do.
- I know I am supposed to love the rain and overcast skies known here as June Gloom, but I don't. I did my time in cloudy purgatory. I want the sun back. Preferably at a modest 75 degrees.
- I confess I have weather standards.
- I am a rapt patient of Dr. Google. I believe in pouring over symptoms online. What else am I going to do while I endure the Canadian wait until it's time for my next non-virtual appointment?
I confess that I am a wee bit of a hypochondriac. I can't do Dr. Google. I can't watch House. I can't look at the billboard on the side of the Hospital that says: "PREVENT STROKES: Know your Blood Pressure." If I do any of these things I will become convinced that I have whatever condition they happen to mention. I really think I am that special.
ReplyDeleteFig trees seem to be as plentiful in the wild as the single backyard citrus is in the urban landscape.
ReplyDeleteNo confession . . . wonder if you saw this?
ReplyDeletehttp://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2009/06/08090608crat_atlarge_menand?currentPage=all
I say show no guilt. Get rid of the figs and keep trading them for something you will actually use. Why not?
ReplyDeleteFirst, I've got your back on the figs. Enjoined by the biblical injunction ("Each person will sit under his or her fig tree in peace." Micah 4:4) we have nurtured the volunteer fig in the back corner until the thing has become a monster. It's a lovely tree, but everyone here HATES the fruit. We've tried preserves, jam, chopped bits in salads, even homemade fig newtons...the damn things are just a sappy-sweet mushy...yech. And they make the same mess as yours.
ReplyDeleteBUT...
You have them. Others seem to want them. Why not take the deal? They get what they want, you get what you want - what's not to like?
Sunny and 75 sounds like perfection. Like Goldilocks weather!
ReplyDeleteI know (though probably not to your degree). I suffered loquat guilt -- the only one eating those was my dog. And what a disgusting mess that made.
ReplyDelete(My wv is amsht. That says it all.)