Thursday, February 23, 2006

Exploring Grapefruit

I never knew that grapefruit could be an adventure. Today, while skitting through Bylerly's, I noticed that there are more than one type of grapefruit and wondered what the difference was.

I don't remember what all the types of grapfruit there were, but I bought one of each and had myself a little taste test when I got home.

Four Types of Grapefruit

As I gingerly sliced each grapefruit into their domes, I was thinking about how clever the grapefruit spoon was and wondered who invented it.

Some interesting facts:

It seems that the grapefruit spoon is a derivative of the "spork."

Types of grapefruit, explained by The Fruit Pages and Dole

Fanona, my beloved massage therapist, identified that I had a swollen liver -- the result of eating too much grapefruit.

In the photo, I've arranges the grapefruit so they're ordered from tangy (left) to sweet (right). The first graepfruit I tasted was the strange fleshy-feeling one (#3). Holding it in my hand, I wondered if there were any fruit in there at all because the peel was so spongy. Turns out the formation and orientation of the sections are all over the place! In order to get all of the "meat" out of one chamber, I had to clean out several others.

Both the original slices and the remains of the grapefruit (after I had my way with them) produced some lovely sights:

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

DeCluttering the DeClutterable

My office is a mess. "Einstein's Refrigerator," one of the bathroom books, somehow made it in here. And there's jar of Gorp I juggled from a half box of raisins and a jar of salted peanuts. My digital camera threatens to disappear between my monitors. It will likely become lost for a month or so...lost like the Cultural Creatives Business Network's cash box and markers. Maybe they are back there.

Nope.

Also, an unfinished holiday gift -- one of my handmade projects gone awry: a bead bag made from Japanese seed beads, whose lip is off by just one bead.
There is a scale I use for small packages after I discovered it wasn't useful for Marty's home brewing activities. There are papers: a stack piled neatly by the blue box with drawers of paperclips, tacks, file tabs, staples, postage stamps, clamps and rubber bands; the rest are strewn about the floor, desktop, and shelves, lying casually with magazine clippings, rocks (yes, rocks), receipts and business cards.

When I begged her to come over and help me de-clutter, Linda said, "You should really find out why this keep happening to you..."

Mostly, I think it's because I don't want to clean it up. Somehow, it seems like a waste of energy. I'm one of those "Creative Types," Cat says.

I do: I like things clean and orderly. I like to know where everything is. I like lots of light and space.

So Linda wants me to have a system in place so she won't have to come over when my order has been derailed. And I just want her to endulge me twice a week.

Mom used to say that I'd better make a lot of money so that I can have someone clean up after me all of the time. I think I should make "just enough."

First Thoughts -- Blank Thoughts

A blank screen. Like a blank sheet of paper in writer's group with no writing exercise. The rule becomes to write about not being able to write until you can think of something. Yes, write until something comes to mind.

Proof that even the mundane can be interesting.