Strawberries for dinner tonight, Tuesday. Red, sweet, tart, nutritious strawberries make eating whimsical and delicate and happy. Place them in a bowl after washing, or in my case, place the colander in a larger bowl to catch the drippings because I can’t wait for them to dry. I can’t wait to eat these strawberries I bought at the grocery store on sale!
Gently picking each berry by the green part, not really stems, maybe leaves. So, by the leaves, I put one in my mouth without looking because I know what’s about to happen. And I’m correct, because it’s as delightful as it is delicious and I can have lots of them because they are not pizza and they are not cheeseburgers and they are not chow mein.
I get a squishy one. So I examine the next one and there’s mold. Mold all over one side of it. Like it fell in a mound of meth. The room is dark, so I switch on the light and look at the rest of them. And I’m afraid. But not because I am eating strawberries in the dark on a Tuesday.
They are weird. Strawberries are weird and no longer cute. They are strange and menacing like monsters. The monsters that seem inanimate, but when you least expect it they open their eyes and roar, then bare giant claws and dangle you by your throat with one while the other grasps the spire of a tall building.
I deal with this frightening dilemma by reasoning that not all strawberries are monsters. A few are in my belly right now and I am not a goner. So I put the innocent ones into a ziplock and the suspicious ones right in the garbage. For safety.
But I’m still hungry and a little put off by strawberries for dinner. It went from a strawberry night to a top ramen night in a finger snap. Strawberries are tricky and quick to pull the wool over your eyes. So be careful not to eat a monster when all you wanted was an adorable springtime strawberry.