Fruit Salad Math

by Marinka on June 7, 2009

The other night Husbandrinka and I hosted a small dinner party and right away it went to shit because I asked him what he wanted me to make and he said “nothing, I got it” in a way that made me realize that he doesn’t value my cooking and probably wants to divorce me or have me killed. So I offered to make a fruit salad because I recently learned how to slice pineapples and haven’t been able to stop doing it and he said “fine.” When people say “fine”, they mean “If it’ll shut you up”, by the way.

So the dinner party is underway and my stepson is there, and my daughter tells him that when he moves in with us in August, she will clean his room for $5 and he jokes that he will start saving money and then my son says that if he doesn’t pay him $10, he’ll mess up his room. Somehow the conversation turns to extortion and how terrible the mafia is and I can’t understand why everyone’s so judgmental suddenly. Live and let live, I say. It’s not like these people are hurting anyone.

Anyway, we finished eating the main course (description redacted because Husbandrinka prepared it and everyone complimented it) and I leap up and say “we will now have fruit salad!” and Husbandrinka looks at the fruit salad and says, “this isn’t fruit salad, this is pineapple and strawberries.” Seriously? Is there some kind of a newfangled constitutional amendment now that says that in order to be labeled a fruit salad it has to have a minimum of three fruit? Because I don’t remember this part in high school math. So I defended my fruit salad verbally because I am a naturally nonviolent person (especially when there are witnesses) and he said “why don’t you add cherries?”

Now I pride myself on my open-minded flexibility and Buddha like serenity, but I firmly believe that Husbandrinka is trying to make me insane so that he can enjoy a peaceful life with our children and multi-fruit fruit salad. Why my being insane would lead to this peaceful slice of heaven I’m not sure, you will have to ask him yourself.

Because who puts cherries in fruit salad? Is that convenient to eat? You’d have to spit out the cherry pits every five seconds.

So I protest and he says, “forget it, never mind” and as I go to get the two fruit salad, he says, “let’s serve it later. After cake.” If you ever make something for a dinner and the hosts say “let’s serve it later. After cake”, it means that your dish is wearing the gastronomic dunce cap. Which is exactly how my fruit salad felt.

I tried to make Mean Eyes of Death and Marital Discord at Husbandrinka but he didn’t seem to notice.

We served the fruit salad after cake.

People were polite and didn’t gorge themselves on it.

There is still plenty left over.

Under the dunce cap.

One year ago ...

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