The old adage “If someone gives you lemons, make lemonade” makes a lot of sense.  But God didn’t give me a lemon. He gave me a watermelon. From Ralph’s.

There are many, deceptively easy things you have to do before loading one of those green beauties into you cart. 

For example: I have watched people – usually men people –  attack the problem. 

First they study the display and try to figure out just how to get to that third melon from the left without sending the entire display flying and splattering over the store.

Then, satisfied that they can do it if they are careful, they make their move. They manage to get the thing up so they can sniff at it, pound on it, and listen for a sound I don’t hear. If there is a god, the first one is the charm, otherwise, they do the whole damn thing again.

But there is an easier way.  Find someone who works at the store, preferably in the Fruit and Vegetable department, and ask his expert opinion.  Most people, and again I say men people, are eager and willing to display their expertise in such matters. If you think about it, you are really doing him a favor by offering him an opportunity to show off under the guise of being helpful. I don’t actually see many Fruit and Vegetable women-experts, so I have not had to formulate a theory about them.

Sticking to men.

Anyway.

It took a few minutes, but I did find a very helpful, and possibly even more beautiful than the watermelons, young man who did all of that pounding and listening, and placing of watermelon into my cart, for me.

Checking out was easy.  The cashier and her assistant moved all the groceries from my cart and repackaged them for the trip to my car.  

The helper even insisted on taking the trip with me.  She placed the bags, heavy laden though they were, into my car and I drove home.

Up to this time I hadn’t even touched that watermelon. But now, alone in my driveway, It was all up to me.

Okay.  It WAS a thing of beauty.  Shiny and bright and tremendously green.  But it was also on the floor of my car, and when I tried to lift it, I discovered something.  The freaking thing must weigh 30 pounds. I wanted to cry.  But I don’t approve of crying.

This is where having my kind of mind comes in handy.

I keep, on the side of my driveway, a cart for just this purpose: to carry things from the car to the door.  So all I really had to do at this point was shove the thing into the cart.

Unfortunately, it didn’t shove.

Now it was MY turn to study the problem mentally.

GOT IT!

I opened the car door as wide as I could, then got back in the driver’s seat and kicked the watermen – fairy hard.  Hard enough to get it through the door, so it fell right into the cart.

YEA Me!

I got out, grabbed the handle and dragged the cart up to the doorstep.

The. Doorstep. I forgot to plan on the doorstep.

But I’m not down yet! 

I opened yet another door, this time into my tiny House.  Ahead of me lay a surprisingly long corridor.  Long for a Tiny House that is.  But it IS straight and it has very little wobble room.  

Using the cart handle as a lever, I tipped the cart up, onto the step and propelled the watermelon straight down to the kitchen. Like bowling. With a green ball.

Now, all I had to do was get it off the floor and into the sink.  

Okay?  No.  Not okay.  It still weighed 50 pounds.    I know I said it weighed 30 pounds, but that was hours ago.  It was now 50. 

Closer to fury than tears, we challenged each other. My house.  My rules.

I decided to slice the thing in half before even trying to get it up off the ground. I grabbed a large serrated knife and plunged it directly into the heart of the watermelon.

Now all I had to do was slice!  I stood up and gave the knife its first twist. It did nothing.  I tried again…Nope.  So I pulled it out.  Ooops.  No I didn’t. It would’t move.

Now I was outnumbered.  I had TWO enemies.  The watermelon AND the serrated knife.

United they stood.

Alone I fell

Stay Calm and  Carry on.

I have a plan. 

I will sit here and wait for Jay.

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