I am sitting here in the kitchen, doing some work from home (well, blogging....supposed to be working) while Simon and Issac are eating tangerines. Tangerines bring me back to my childhood and my Bubby. We used to stay with her for a week each winter break while my parents vacationed. (You're going away too, Kerry..tell people you are going to Skokie, my mother used to tell me) The routine at her house was at breakfast, we discussed lunch. At lunch, we discussed dinner and at dinner, we discussed the next mornings breakfast. But...in the evening..after dinner was done and Bub had washed all the dishes and what not, we would sit in the family room, on the sheet covered couch and have, what she called, a tangerine party. Little did Lance and I know this meant we'd eat tangerines and watch tv. (non cable tv) We were probably watching Dynasty or Murder She Wrote while Bub would peel the tangerines for us. (Unless it was Saturday afternoon. Then we watched Channel 11. We'd watch the guy paint, we'd watch Jeff Smith (the pedophile) on his gourmet cooking show. We'd watch Julia Child throw chickens on the floor and then we'd watch Yan Can Cook (Yan just couldn't speak English) and we'd watch the cajun guy cook...Justin something?? I don't remember. He liked his wine though. His English wasn't so hot either.) That was it. That was the whole party. Nothing more, nothing less.
A lot of times in the evening, it was just the 3 of us. My Papa worked in a liquor store and his shift changed each day. (But he ALWAYS had a hot meal...if he worked the day shift, he had a hot dinner. If he worked the night shift, his "dinner" was at lunch time and he'd eat a hot meal then. And if that was the case, we would wait to eat lunch until he had eaten his dinner. Bub still called it dinner even though it was lunchtime...I never understood that..I mean we got the concept...but....whatever) Whatever my Bub did with us, she made fun. There's no way in hell I could sit here today and tell my kids we were going to have a tangerine party and they'd go along with it. They'd be using the tangerine as balls and would whip them at each other. There would be fighting over what we were going to watch. There'd be fighting about who was going to sit where. It would be a nightmare. So, imagine the scene in the fruit store the other day when I bought these tangerines. As I bagged them up, I stood smiling and laughing while I remembered the tangerine parties from my childhood. Steve stared at me like I was special. I tried explaining it to him...about our parties. He just didn't get it. I guess no one would get it. Except for Lance, Bub and me.