Garfieldhug's Blog

This & That Including What Ails

Fruits From Mr Nice Guy

These mangoes are large and I could share with Boy next door as he loves mangoes too.

13 Points loves mangoes but is away in UK visiting her family and joining her Michelin star chef boyfriend in Italy thereafter.

I managed to share one of the large mangoes with Dr Bones. He does not eat mangoes but his wife and sons do.

Neighbor who cooked for me does not like mangoes and so, I could not share with her.

I kept the small mango, size of a red apple, for self. It was very nice to share the mangoes especially when I received it fresh.

Mangoes from Australia are peach flavored whilst mangoes from Philippines has its own unique non fibrous texture.

My mum used to plant coconut mango, hawaiian peach mango and papaya mango trees in our old place of residence. She loves gardening and it is her favorite hobby to the fruits of her labor and she got the most joy seeing neighbors enjoy the fruits she share when fruits ripen. I learnt to share the harvests like my mum except mine are gifts from friends.

These unique species for each different type of mango tree saplings were carefully grafted by a man in his late sixties. This old uncle as we call him, has a sprawling business garden plot that sells flowers, potted plants, landscaping furniture and fruit trees. My mum chanced upon him and bought up his ‘experimental’ mango tree saplings.

Coconut mangoes were shaped like coconuts and weighed on average a kilo each fruit. I loved the papaya mangoes as it was almost 6 to 8 inches in length and its seed was so slim and thin, giving us mango lovers a lot of mango flesh to enjoy.

These gifts are Indian mangoes and Indian mangoes to me, are best.

Dr Bones received this from me
I kept this set for myself
Boy received this from me
Green Muscat grapes from China and purple black grapes from S Korea
Cherries, blueberries from S Africa, raspberries from USA, Sun plums and Japanese apples

Mr Nice Guy was right, other than blueberries and raspberries, I would not dream of buying Korean grapes or muscat grapes. I only eat Thomson seedless grapes!

This is also my first time seeing Japanese apples…its peel is so rough that it does not appeal to me. But I will try it. 😆

Silly me! Mr Nice Guy wanted me to try different fruits. Anyway, I froze the grapes. I usually use frozen grapes to ice the water I would drink and eat the melted grapes after.

Frozen grapes are like little popsicles and fun to suck till it melts and chew on the grapes after. It also prevents food wastage for me.

Thank you Mr Nice Guy. I appreciate the time and trouble you took to get me these useful fruits.


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Why Women Are Crabby!

l had to share this story, it made me laugh out loud:
“Why Women Are Crabby!”

We started to ‘bud’ in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. Then came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn’t even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn’t end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn’t spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary’s Baby.

Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a whole watermelon and we peed our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain, all the way to the ER.

Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, ‘Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push’ (more like 10), warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %$#@#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it was time to raise those angels, only to find that when all that ‘cute’ wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.

Then comes their ‘Teen Years.’ Need I say more?

When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40’s – while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.

So we progress into the grand finale: ‘The Menopause,’ the Grandmother of all womanhood. It’s either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned ‘buds’ or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life’s cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks…

So, while I love being a woman, ‘Womanhood’ would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the ‘weaker sex?’ Yeah right. Bite me.


Tonight’s Trivia….Caption This…