so sunday wasn't our best day

People have asked me if I've had any pregnancy cravings yet, and I don't really think I have, but I have been an exceptionally big fan of fruit.  Grapes, cherries, apples, and strawberries have been my staples, but I got a watermelon at the store on Sunday afternoon and by last night I had eaten THE ENTIRE WATERMELON. 

All by myself. 

In three days.

In addition to the watermelon, I also got green bell peppers and white nectarines at the store.  When I got to the register, the cashier was a teenage boy, probably about 16 or so.  He picked up the nectarines and punched in the number on the sticker.  Then he did a double take at the bag filled with red fruit.  "Are these really white nectarines?" he asked.  "Yep, they are," I said.

"Weird," he shrugged, "they sure don't look white to me."

I explained that the fruit inside is white, hence the name, and  I thought about how proud Matt would be because he comes from a long line of men in the produce business.  I am not joking. His grandfather made a career of owning his very own produce business, and when he retired Matt's dad ran the business for many years. 

While Matt doesn't work in the produce world himself, he carries on the family tradition by intensely analyzing every fruit and vegetable we buy.  When we go food shopping together I immediately hightail it straight to dairy so I am not seen with him as he heartily slaps and smacks the melons and sniffs all of the pineapples until he is on the verge of passing out.

Anyway, back to the cashier.  He said, "Okay, I trust you."  (As if I would try to commit some sort of tricky nectarine switcharoo).   "You know, I don't really know much about produce.  I don't eat many fruits and vegetables, and my mom does our food shopping."

And then he keyed in the green bell peppers, and looked at me and said with all the seriousness in the world, "What do you think would happen if you got a job naming produce, but you were color blind?"

Listen, I did my very best to keep a straight, serious face, but I'm not sure how successful I was.  I managed to tell him I didn't know if that would be a very good job for someone who is colorblind, and he agreed.

It reminded me of the time I was in high school, and I asked my family what would happen if an all  boys school decided to perform Annie as their annual musical.   That was at LEAST 16 years ago and I have yet to live it down. 

Later Sunday evening Matt and I were sitting on the patio.  A big storm passed through, but as the skies cleared, I heard the owls hooting with enthusiasm.

"Wow," I said to Matt, "that storm really brought out the owls."

"What?" he said.

"The owls! Don't you hear them all woo woo-ing?"

"Well I hear that sound," he said, "but those are mourning doves."

Well.  I have been living an ornithological lie for 30 years.  I pulled up a YouTube video hanging onto a sliver of hope that a video of a mourning dove would prove Matt wrong, but it didn't.

After my world was turned upside down, we went inside for some ice cream. 

"Wait until you see what kind of concoction I make tonight," Matt said, and then proudly announced  "I'm making a neopolitan!"

"But we don't have strawberry ice cream," I said.

"So? My neopolitan is going to be chocolate chip cookie dough, peanut butter cup, and vanilla."

And it was then that Matt learned he too had been living a lie for 30 years, except his was in the dairy department. He thought neopolitan just meant three flavors of ice cream in one bowl.  Any three.

I wished we could have invited the grocery store cashier over for a neopolitan and some nectarines.  I guarantee the three of us could have solved some major world problems. 

Or maybe not.

But I do guarantee Matt would have picked the three best nectarines in the produce section.