Don't Knock It...
Last summer I had one of the most harrowing experiences of my lifetime. If you're new here, you need to know I'm exaggerating. I could have written the same words about the blood drive band aid I just peeled off my gotta-be-kin-to-Chewbacca elbow joint.
Now back to the situation at hand (thank you Snoop), last summer, the boys and I were at the produce market where I set out to choose a watermelon. I thumped and knocked a few of them. I settled on the winner, and we headed home. We set this baby in the refrigerator for a cooling (colding?) spell. When the time came to carve it up, we discovered the watermelon was nowhere close to being ripe. I mean the inside was more white than pink and nowhere close to being red--ooh! I believe I have also just aptly described my pre-sunburn complexion!
I was immediately dismayed. Growing up in my daddy's grocery store and making a part-time college career out of running a roadside produce stand, I was ashamed of myself. I felt bad. I worried. Had I lost my "ear"? The rest of the summer, when we wanted watermelon, my mantra was, "Quit being so prideful and trust the pros." I asked for help, and I would ask, "Can I eat this one today?"
This Saturday, we brought home the first watermelon of the summer. The previous watermelon does not count since it was the last watermelon of late, late spring, and, yes, it was an unripened disaster, thank you very much. The former was also selected without professional help, but it only made it to the car after lots (LOTS!) of thumping and knocking. I still don't trust myself. To prove a point, I made the command decision once we got home to let it sit on the porch for one more day. This proved an effective strategy, and good things did come to those who waited. Sunday afternoon gave us a sweet, mid-afternoon snack well worth the wait. 24 more hours would have proven even nicer, but who's got that kind of patience!
I'm holding off on crowing about success with an "I'm back, baby!" The jury is still out. Maybe I was going through something of a rough patch last summer. Maybe I was distracted. I did feel like someone from the South Carolina Department of Agriculture was going to show up and have me exiled as a sous chef on the set of March of the Penguins 2.
What I do know is this: I have found a good illustration for the next time the lectionary deals me "Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear." No, it will not replace my reference to White Men Can't Jump's "You can't hear Jimi!" And shame on you, spellcheck, for highlighting "Jimi". Really??