Tuesday, August 9, 2011

My kids probably have scurvy and I probably am an alcoholic

Thanks to my BFF, the Rowdy Chick seeking Elusive Balance, I came to know the uber hilarious Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess.  Jenny had a post not too long ago that sparked a series of events that gave my life purpose and meaning, at least for a couple of days.  The topic of the blog was scratching messages in bananas.  The “notes” magically appeared hours later, because that’s just how writing on bananas work…due either to the general decomposition process governed by the laws of nature or because they are the fruits of the Devil’s labors.
Undoubtedly, you could scratch sweet notes to children, significant others, and the like, to demonstrate how much you (or the bananas?) care.  But Jenny’s amusing twist of this agape was to write paranoid messages on her bananas for the family. I was inspired by this whole Message in a Fruit concept, and decided to take it one step further.  Not only could I freak out the husband and kids, which is admittedly fun in and of itself, but I could get my way in the process.  SWEET.  Why not use anonymous edicts from produce as a tactical maneuver to force the clan to do my bidding? I thought.   I faced a dilemma; however, after embarking on a painstaking search, I found no bananas at my house.  In retrospect, the end result of my futile banana search should have been evident, given the smell of their yellow, rancid skins makes me puke.  As a matter of fact, there weren’t any fresh fruits in my kitchen, except mangoes...but they were ONLY for blending with tequila and triple sec.  Yep, I know…my kids probably have scurvy and I am probably an alcoholic.  But back to my fantasy… 

I then just couldn’t go buy bananas.  My family would have become immediately suspicious, and by my own warped moral code, I could not financially support the banana industry.  My search did uncover year-old Dora the Explorer fruit snacks that Wesley wouldn’t touch because they are “girl snacks.”  Side note:  I bought the Dora snacks by mistake, thinking they were Scooby Doo fruit snacks.  In my defense, I bought them in Walmart, where I am generally disoriented, AND the two purple boxes were side by side, AND, damn it, she looks like Velma!

Anyway, I decided to spell out my messages using Dora the Explorer fruit snacks.  With 10% fruit juice, I was hoping they would yield at least 10% compliance.  My plan was to get up way early to leave messages to my minions.  (Insert Maniacal Laugh) When Wesley came downstairs for breakfast, he would find the unfolded napkin beside his plate dotted with miniature, stale, but fruity Doras, Bootses, Swipers, and magical backpacks.  WASH MOM’S CAR.  At the same time, Tom would discover his message left on the master bath’s counter top.  AFTER LAST NIGHT, SHE DESERVES FLOWERS.  Jessie and Paul would find there messages smeared with Jello Snack Pack pudding (because fruit snacks won’t stick to ceramic tile) on their respective showers’ walls.  VACUUM THE LIVING ROOM and FEED THE DOGS.

Alas, after two weeks of preparation, I have yet to execute my plan.  Truth be known, I will not get up earlier than absolutely necessary due in part to mango margarita consumption, and the kids are too vitamin C deficient to carry out complicated tasks.  Not to mention the fact that I deserve way more than flowers…  

A. Ballerina