This weekend was enormous. Not huge... enormous.
Friday night, we had a lovely Belgian dinner. After dinner, we went to the theater and caught a whole slew of friends (and made a new one) doing fine work. After the theater, we met up with two old friends I was able to introduce Maura to.
Saturday we took a great walk, did some grocery shopping, spent a bunch of quality time lounging in the sun and doing some wedding planning, then we drove to Baltimore for a lovely Passover dinner with the family.
Today, after a sweet morning at home, we headed out to do some registering for the wedding, then drove out to Mt. Airy, MD to see one of my oldest friends in the world... and to ask him to perform our wedding ceremony. (He said yes.) On the way home, we finally knocked an annoying errand off our to-do list.
Perhaps the most important event of the weekend, however, happened in the car this afternoon. While riding in the car, sitting beside Maura, I had my first ever bite in my entire life of... a banana.
Yes. I'm 39 years old and until today, I'd never eaten a banana.
I was scared of them. The smel turned my stomach. But you know what? It wasn't all that bad.
Now, I've still got a ways to go. I still think I'm far away from actually desiring a banana. But I got over the hump. I took a small bite, put in my mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed. And it wasn't at all terrible.
I'll keep trying. And that's what I'm grateful for -- that I'm open to new experiences, new flavors, new textures (nobody told me they were so MUSHY). I hope that no matter how old I get, I always keep my mind -- and my taste buds -- open like that. Don't you?
3 comments:
I hate bananas. And blood, and heights. And, that is pretty much it unless you start talking people and politics and original sin and such.
But I have this daughter. And she loves some banana. So we had a swap yesterday: she ate some shallot crusted rockfish for dinner and I had a banana. And managed not to throw up. But really: she totally got the better deal. Also: a child whose father makes her shallot crusted rockfish for dinner has no business being so picky.
Last summer I crossed and recrossed the horrible terrifying net walkways in the "Dragon Land" at Busch Gardens. And escalators-- really tall ones-- I now have to hold on with only one hand going down them, because the other hand is always full. Being scared of heaights is not always an option for me anymore.
Which brings us to blood. I spent the early part of Sunday afternoon watching veterinary surgeries with her at an open house for a vet hospital. We watched *three* neuterings. In a row.
If I am ever gone, and she ever asks you how much I love her: there you go: more than fear and hate. Escalators and bananas and blood.
That is how much.
Kudos on eating a banana!
Oh-- sorry. That was me, Laura.
Hey and Chag Sameach!
You may not have ever eaten a banana, but I know you've tried to smoke the peel - "they call me mellow yellow . . ."
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