Thursday, February 2, 2012
The last few oranges from Mom and Dad in Florida met the squeezer the other day. A small glass of oj was always a morning staple next to that bowl of oatmeal or hot creme of wheat. Some mornings were extra special. A glass of fresh squeezed waited for us in the warm kitchen. We had one of those glass orange squeezers, and I always jumped at the chance to 'make' the juice when Mom asked for help. An upper lip laced with pulp was the only consequence. These days, a moustache, adds a bit of a nuisance to the whole process, but the reaching of the bottom of the glass still brings the... "Ah!".