Lemons

Lately, I find myself describing (in my head) the ways that Jeff and I are different. I use different metaphors and examples and the running commentary in my head entertains me as I walk to work or sit in boring work meetings.

Here's my favorite so far:

You know that saying, "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade"? Well, here's is how that would play out at my house. If life handed Jeff and me lemons, there would be two very different processes.

Jeff: Jeff would start by surveying the lemon situation and deciding what he could buy at Home Depot that would aid the lemonade making process. He would then proceed to Home Depot's abundant wood aisle and buy some very sturdy oak wood-- oak because it's on sale-- and then he would go home (but first maybe stop at Stanely's and get some friends for the lemons in the form of .10 lemons and limes just this close to rotting) and sand down the oak to make a perfect lemonade-making cutting board. Then, he would google the best way to cut lemons to make lemonade and proceed to cut each lemon (and now the limes too) systematically so to maximize the juice while simultaneously getting rid of those little seeds. After improving on the chopping and squeezing method he learned on the Internet, he would put the lemonade in the fridge and adjust the temperature to the perfect lemonade-chill. He would freeze any left over lemon or lime chunks, and then revisit the Internet to add to our wedding registry any devices or contraptions that would make it easier in the future to make lemonade. Left over rinds? Jeff would dry them out and use them to construct a tarp into which he can hit golf balls during the winter.

Christie: I would start by catastrophizing the situation for hours on end. I would call all of my friends to enlist them into catastrophizing with me. Then, I would go to Ann Taylor Loft and buy a bunch of clothes (not on sale) and jewelry that match the yellow waxy-ness of lemons.