Well folks, it's Thursday. Hit-your-snooze-button-five-times-and-roll-out-of-bed-feeling-like-you-got-hit-by-a-train Thursday. Thanks to the daylight savings time change, this Thursday feels even more Thursdayish than usual.
Perhaps this is why I am finding it so difficult to write today. Thinking sort of feels like wading through knee-deep mud wearing red galoshes that are three sizes too big for my freezing cold feet. I've always wanted a pair of red galoshes.
Part of the problem is I worked a ton this week and didn't do anything especially blogworthy, except for attending a Gungor concert with some good friends.
Anyway, today, because my muddy thinking has impaired my judgement, I'm going to write about something I've never tackled before. Something profound. Something Intriguing. There's no time like Thursday to venture into uncharted terrain.
So hold on to your hats (or galoshes), people.
And let's talk about blood oranges.
1. Our blood orange crop abounds this year. The branches are so weighed down by Winnie the Pooh-hued globes that I'm tempted to eat oranges with every meal. I hate to see things go to waste.
2. What is a girl supposed to do with so many blood oranges?
3. I've been juicing like a fiend.
4. Has anyone ever played Power Pete? It was the only computer game my siblings and I played as kids. It features a dark-haired and, of course, powerful man named Pete. He wanders through castles and candy lands trying to rescue bunnies, and shooting evil toys while shouting "Take that, you fiend!!!" I can't say the word fiend without remembering him.
Power Pete, your legacy lives on.
5. I love juicing blood oranges. The colors are so vibrant. Correction, the colors and shapes are so amazing that I don't actually like the part where I juice, and therefore ruin, the oranges. Although drinking crimson O.J. is fun.
7. But I can't do that, so I make juice and then figure out what to do with all of it.
8. I've started using some of it to make honey-sweetened blood orange sorbet. It's tangy and refreshing and makes me pucker my lips.
Fortunately, I found a big container holding about 1/2 cup of very rotten black beans I'd forgotten about. Unfortunately, I opened the container in my house. It was 24 hours before I felt comfortable breathing without a face mask.
I remained undaunted, however, and I scrubbed that container with every last ounce of elbow grease I had before plopping the sorbet in it.
Two days later I pulled it out of the freezer and opened it up, eager for an icy treat, only to collapse on the floor reeling from the oppressive, fetid smell of rotten black beans and blood orange sorbet. I had to toss the whole batch. It hurt. I hate seeing things go to waste.
10. The good news is our blood orange crop abounds.
11. I've discovered a recipe for blood orange scones. But there are still more oranges than I know what to do with. I'm open to every blood orange suggestion you can give me.
Well, that's about it, folks. You can take your galoshes off now. Go kick up your feet, drink a glass of O.J. and enjoy the rest of this Thursday.