A Story of Apple Worship

Okay Okay - So my Valentine's Day hint wasn't really hidden. At least not very well. Did you check out Mrs. Prindables? I’m thinking they should be called Sinnerables, or Sinables, or Apples by Eve or something of that sort. Those apples (and they are not exactly fruit) are amazing. I know because this is the SECOND time, yes, the SECOND time my kids’ Auntie Jill has sent them to us. I say, “us” but I really mean my kids. Of course, since she sends them how can I not indulge myself? I mean... really. Doesn’t she know that caramel apples are like my favorite thing on earth? When we go to a carnival or fair Joe eats the cotton candy (which is just a puffy bunch of insubstantial, lightweight, sugary air and merely makes you sticky) and I eat the CARAMEL APPLES! Crunchy. Cool. Rich. I’m still researching the best way to get to the meat of the apple in just one bite. Oh my gosh! And Mrs. Prindables are the BEST. If you haven’t tried them, you must.

Each of my children, including the one who adds sugar to everything already sugary, can’t eat a whole one in one sitting. It is good they make them in mini sizes, but I think the minis are for wimps... I mean, my kids, because I can eat a WHOLE one. Yup. Sure can. And since apples are part of a food group, technically, I’m really adding to my fruit and veggie count for the day. (Just smile and nod your head.)

So here’s the truth. We visit Auntie Jill and Uncle Carl in Colorado for Sam’s, our godson, first birthday (an important shindig for Korean children). She says something cryptic about a present and I’m thinking.... what? But since I am not good at confrontation I let it pass. We arrive home. I finally get my lazy toosh up at 5 AM to make it back to the gym and back into my exercise routine since on vacation our friends gave us great food and plenty of desserts. I’m proud I got my body up to sweat so early in the morning. Back on the treadmill at the gym. How long will it take to lose the 3.5 pounds I gained in a week, I wonder? I don’t dwell on it, however. That would be depressing. Instead, that afternoon, the UPS guy comes (who is becoming my best friend because I love getting presents) and the BOX IS MARKED MRS. PRINDABLES! I start yelling, “Get the scissors!!!! Get the scissors!!!” We open the box. Zach starts popping all the packing bubbles which are the really big kind that every kid loves except Evan and me, so I yell some more, “Stop POPPING!” We take a few pictures to remember the moment and the happiness and the sweetness of it all. Then....we start eating.

Then it hits me. Can you imagine? They actually have the nerve to pack “nutritional information” in this box. I glance at the paper to determine if they have the gaul to add how many calories in each one of these things. I determine, YES! They did! Scoundrels! I throw the paper away. I don’t want to know.

Then it hits me again. What? I go to HER house, eat all her food, create mountains of dishes, use all her hot water and shed my hair all over her bathroom and SHE sends ME a gift. I’ve got it. She’s one of those people who likes to get (sneery voice) ‘Thank You Cards’. Aha! That’s what it is. I’ve been duped. I’ve been deceived. I’ve eaten the apples and now I am stuck forever. Like the Queen of Narnia who snared Edmund with Turkish Delight and the Enchantress who lured the mother of Rapunzel into selling her baby daughter for a bundle of rapunzel... I am indebted to Mrs. Prindable (and Auntie Jill) and her deliciously tricky tricks.

Oh well. You only live once. If you have to eat an apple, you may as well eat a Mrs. Prindable’s. If only Eve were so lucky.