Watermelon

I cut up a whole seedless watermelon last night. I don’t usually buy these behemoths, because they are so very very large, and our counter space so very very small. I bought it because it was ON SALE, and that’s my favorite kind of thing to buy. And I made a decision…Dr. Atkins and his damn book have me so nervy about carbs, I haven’t dare eat any fruits for ages (except an occasional grapefruit), but the cravings are just too much, and I decided recently, “Hell and damnation! Summer is the BEST time to eat fresh fruits! Gol’durnnit, I’m gonna eats me some fruit this summer!” (I already eats loads of veggies, not like I’m not getting any roughage, but my tongue misses the sweet kind.)

Last night I hacked away at this thing, with knives of three different sizes and uses, and got, like, a hellova lot of melon. Bowls and bowls of it. Most of it went into the freezer, to be pulled out to plop into the kids juices, or squashed into a frozen dessert concoction with other lucky frozen fruits, or to be carefully eaten by yours truly, or perhaps smashed into something resembling a pretty “Girl Drink”, which I will spike with vodka and reward myself with.

I’m in the middle of eating a couple handfuls of the juicy stuff.

It.
Is.
Maddeningly.
Delicious.

Here and forthwith are the things “watermelon” reminds me of:

1) When I was younger, I would sprinkle salt on my watermelon (and cantaloupe, all the melons). My grandparents did it, my parents did it, my aunts and uncles and cousins did it. I still don’t know exactly why, maybe it tastes juicier.

2) Birthin’ that nearly-ten-pound eldest child of mine was very nearly like squeezing that melon out my hoo-haa-hole.

3) I’m now obsessed with finding out how good a watermelon-and-vodka smash-tini would be on a hot summer day.

4) Did anyone ever really spike a whole watermelon, and how did they do it?

5) In college, a friend told me if you’re ever singing in a group in front of a crowd and you forget the words, just mouth the word ‘watermelon’ over and over again, and no one will notice.

6) An old joke: A farmer who grew watermelons was tired of the young whippersnappers down the road making off with a couple of his melons every night. He put a sign in his watermelon patch: “WARNING…one of these watermelons is spiked with arsenic.” The next morning, the farmer walked into his watermelon patch and his face fell when he read what the young whippersnappers had added to his sign: “Now there are two.”

Get you some watermelon. The seedless kind is best, but hell, there’s no laws against spittin’ those seeds out, least not in my state.