apples and bees

Remember how in the very beginning I said we’d definitely talk about bees?

Well, here we go.

For whatever reason, the things that stick in my mind are always fruit related. That or we just have a lot of drama around fruit.

Really I can’t decide which it is. But it’s definitely one of those.

So, we had our first apple picking adventure the other weekend.

Before I start, I just need to let you allllllll know *for the record* that bees and wasps and any kind of flying thing that stings or bites like to swarm me.

Apparently I am the most amazing, vibrant, fragrant flower in the history of botany.

Except I’m a person.

Who doesn’t like being swarmed by things that sting.

So, our day starts like any other picture perfect instagrammable nostalgic apple orchard experience. We have a wooden basket. A wagon. Birds singing their morning songs. Crisp, cool air smelling of wet dew and new life. The sun trying to burn through the early morning fog. Laughing kids and a muddy dirt road leading to a lush green orchard filled with rows upon rows of trees, all teeming with apples. Rolling hills giving way to mountains in the background.

Kellan was over the moon excited. Wide eyed and full of wonder. He could just walk up to a tree and pluck off an apple and keep it. Just like that.

Hunter wanted to eat gum them and “clap” two together, much to Kellan’s chagrin, as he was trying to only select the most perfect apples.

As we were going up and down the rows in the orchard, Kellan kept stopping and going to different trees because there were <record scratch> yellow jackets everywhere. They were mostly on the ground around all of the fallen apples.

Tim was completely nonchalant like Kellan. Pick the apples. The bees don’t care. They don’t see you as a threat. They don’t feel any competition.

They aren’t going to come after your apples.

There are plenty of apples everywhere.

Decomposing ones on the ground.

Fresh ones all over the trees.

Apples for everybody and every bee.

And for the most part, that was factual.

The bees stayed out of the way.

That is, until the veeeeery end when I decide to try an apple.

I mean, what happened was the reality of our situation suddenly dawned on me.

We were picking all of these apples and filling a huge basket and we had no idea what they even tasted like.

What if they were terrible?

What if we didn’t like them?

What did we even do if we didn’t like them?……

As a responsible adult, I needed to take one for the team. I was not about to bring a shame bucket to the register like we didn’t try before we picked and now here’s a whole pile of apples…..

So, as we were walking to some new trees, I plucked a glistening red apple off a branch while I was holding Hunter (because bees on the ground plus crawling child is not a desirable combo).

I took a bite and then let Hunter have a “bite” (because gums and also because this kid wants to try and eat everything).

YOU. GUYS.

It was the most delicious piece of fruit I have ever had in my entire life. If this was what the apple tasted like that Eve ate, I really can’t blame her. Girl couldn’t help herself.

Neither could the bees.

Right before I took another bite, a yellow jacket flew onto it. And then it decided Hunter’s shirt right below his chin was an amazing place to forage.

Drool plus apple juice. Bee magnet. FYI.

So here I am…..having this debate in my head….what to do….what to do….

Hunter in one arm, a chin drop away from experiencing the really shocking reality about bees….and in the other hand, the most extraordinary apple I have ever had in my entire life.

During this internal debate, my apple was sending some invisible signal to every bee within a ten mile radius. TRY ME. EAT ME. HERE I AM. FIND THE CRAZY WOMAN WITH THE BABY.

What to do…….what to do…….

I’ll tell you exactly what I did.

AHHHHHHHHHH THERE’S A BEE!!!! IT’S ON HUNTER’S SHIRT!!! HELP!!!!!! BEE!!!!!!

MAKE IT GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!

Tim ran over from picking apples with Kellan a few trees down and started calmly tying to blow the bee off of Hunter’s shirt.

Obviously, I was not able to help other than by holding the apple in the air as far away from Hunter as possible and yelling THAT’S NOT WORKING! IT WON’T LEAVE!

Finally, after Tim had had enough of my bee panic dance, he looks at me and is like, “Seriously woman. JUST DROP THE APPLE. OMG. You’re waving around a torch like a maniac and wondering why the whole room is on fire!”

I hesitated…then I tossed it away. I watched it roll under a nearby tree and I looked over at Tim and whined all, “You don’t understand. That was the best apple in the whole world. It really didn’t deserve that.”

But you guys.

I really really really wanted to eat that apple.

I wanted to eat that apple more than anything I have ever wanted to eat in my whole life. More than the forgotten piece of wedding cake our coordinator neglected put in our bag on our wedding night. And let me tell you I have never been more disappointed to open a container expecting cake and seeing chicken. Chicken! We painstakingly put that cake together flavor by flavor, layer by layer. And then to not even get to sit and devour it in gluttonous glory….it was a sad night that I still think about periodically, mourning over the cake I’ll never get to have.

All of this is to say that I wanted that apple more than I wanted that cake.

And I had to throw it.

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the grapetastrophy

Some of you may have been around for the $20 watermelon….or maybe you forgot about the $20 watermelon.

Either way, I'll wait for you to refresh your memory or make a new one. It's important to have this background knowledge.

Ready?

Here we go.

Apparently, history repeats itself in the produce department. We like to find the things that are ridiculously expensive without realizing it until after we make it through the checkout.

And by that point, knowing how Tim refuses to be shamed by fruit, it's too late.

I partially blame this particular expenditure on doing the GET IT AND GET OUT mad dash that was grocery shopping on Saturday. We were dealing with a baby who wanted to graze any and all items within reach, edible or not, and a child who wanted to be in charge of the grocery list and got upset if we didn't go line by line down the list versus in order of what each aisle had.

I tried to explain how it would not be efficient to go back and forth, up and down the same aisles over and over again, but I don't think it really sank in. At all.

Why, you ask? Well, I was talking to Kellan AND Tim at the same time about completely different things, so instead of giving an important, coherent lesson, it sounded more like, "We need to get all of the things…DID YOU GET THE BREAD?….all of the things in one aisle without having to…YES TWO LOAVES….without having to go back and….ALSO GRAB SOME MILK….forth…MILK? THE HAPPY COW KIND…I know the list isn't in order….YES A WHOLE GALLON….I didn't have time to put it in order….Kellan did you check off bread and milk??

I usually organize the list by aisle but we made one on the fly *as* we drove to the store from a park. I realized we were close to Whole Foods and made a split second decision to go as we drove out of the parking lot.

Looking back, we probably made a whole bunch of errors that led to this expenditure, but hey. That's how we roll. Sometimes. Most of the time….goodbyeeeeee type a trying to take over.

Anyway, Kellan wanted to be in charge of checking things off the list and Hunter wanted to be held and sample anything, whether we put we put it in the cart or not. Kid eats everything. All the time. By the time we left it looked like Hunter had gone into battle with a buffet table and lost…handily.

So, anyhow, the entire time we are grocery shopping my brain is in four places at once and really I cannot ever concentrate fully on one thing. I walk around feeling hectic. I don't know any other way to describe it. I actually feel hectic. Like a swirling dervish of questions and items and what was I doings.

After we filled our cart with mostly things not even on the list (which Kellan protested and then added to the list because details are important, people), I left Tim to handle the checking out on his own. I decided I was getting a smoothie because I was starving.

Kellan spent this time running back and forth between the two of us (straight shot, visible the whole time) to relay information.

Mommy is getting a smoothie.

Daddy asked what size smoothie.

Twelve ounces.

What's in this bag?

Cookies.

Apparently an hour long hike wasn't enough to wear him out.

By the time we got everybody and everything strapped into the car, we sat in the front seats and just stared at each other like what even just happened? Did we even buy anything on the list?

Tim then started going down the receipt to see what all of the "high ticket" items were. Apparently he didn't get to watch the register during checkout, so this was his way of doing it…albeit after the fact.

"What was $10.81??"

He traced his finger along the dotted lines ……what is this……GRAPES?

We bought $10.81 worth of GRAPES???

How many packages of grapes did we buy??

I looked at him all, "One."

This was too much information…or maybe too little information, for Tim.

Why on earth were they ten dollars??? What kind of grapes are ten dollars???

They were organic?

(Apparently that's my go to excuse for expensive produce)

Tim stuffed the receipt in the cup holder all, "These $10 grapes are right on par with that $20 watermelon."

In its defense, it was a really good watermelon….

He kept going under his breath all, "They better be really fantastic grapes for $10. TEN DOLLARS. For grapes!"

And he left it at that until we got home and I tried a few of the grapes.

I looked at him and smiled and said, "These are really good grapes! Totally worth the $10!"

(Because they actually really were)

Tim looks at me dead in the eye and says, "I better not see one. single. grape. in the trash. Not a one!"

Produce: 2
Tim: 0

bagged meat

We made taco salad for dinner the other night.

I know. So boring.

Except I need to know if what I am about to say is just a me thing or if it's generally accepted as GROSS.

We are still living that temporary apartment life and we are starting to run out of things because you don't stockpile when you're going to have to move it all over again.

I am referencing things like glass containers to store food.

I am all about reducing plastic use here, people.

Except we still have ziplock bags – which are 100% plastic – because I haven't yet found a way to not have those. How do you do it? Please share the wisdom of your ways.

Anyhow. Tacos.

All of our (as in three) glass containers to store food were being used. All of the bowls were dirty.

There was thismuch taco meat leftover. Juuuuust too much to be able to eat the last few bites and call it a day.

But there was nothing to put it in.

So says me.

Tim grabs a ziplock bag and is all, "Here, use this!"

And I looked at him like are you serious?

He was definitely serious.

While he scooped it up from the pan and dropped it in the bag he was all, "Are you going to eat this? You're going to eat this, right?"

And he was saying "this" like you'd ask anyone if they'd eat leftovers from a meal that was just so amazingly delicious.

Ummm….do I have to answer?

Maybe? (Read: never)

*gag*

Here is where I get caught up.

Meat doesn't go in bags.

Sandwiches.

Grapes.

Doritos.

Pizza slices.

Carrot sticks.

Even a half eaten hamburger.

All of those things I can see in a bag.

But loose meat?!?!

Bagged. Ground. Loose. Meat.

And let's take it a step further because really there is always an end game:

You want me to open a bag of loose ground meat and pour it.

We are now pouring bagged meat onto a tortilla. Into a bowl. Wherever it's supposed to go, it's going to get there in such a fashion that is akin to liquid coming out of a jug….

I just…I can't.

I can a lot of things but this is one area I just cannot.

I'll have you know that the bag of meat is still sitting in the refrigerator. Probably conforming to whatever shape it has been squished into.

Really none of what I am saying is heading in a direction that ends well.

So let's just leave it at that.

The cold, squished, loose ground meat is never getting eaten.

(I probably just crossed the line with that)