The juice is gooooood.
My favorite juice of all time is freshly squeeze orange juice.
Gram and Gramp would come over every morning to help get us off to school. While mom was running around with her own routine (which is strikingly similar to the tornado method that I've picked up- not enough time and WAY too many tasks) Gramp would make himself comfortable on the couch for a nap (it was 7am after all) and Gram would get to work on our breakfast.
Growing up and living mainly with Madge, cash was a little tight. Although my parents certainly supported each other we didn't have a Barbie Dream House or newest GIJoe toys, but we were by no means neglected. There were a some things here and there we went without but there were also a few little luxuries that Madge would not skimp on- namely certain delicious treats that I now rely on in my adult life as quick, go-to delights.
One that needs no explanation is a brown bag favorite; a Cheese Whiz and bacon sandwich. The other is a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. In retrospect, Madge probably spared no expense here for the 10 pound bag of oranges and saw this as preventative medicine (she also packed a sliced apple in our lunches everyday... that I threw in the trash...everyday.)
It's funny, I actually consider myself a morning person...but I'm not not sure others would be inclined to agree- although I like to get up early, it HAS to be on my own terms. Waking me up for school each day was a chore that I'm sure Madge would've been happy to trade in at any time. Simply stated: I'm a grump when I'm woken up. I hiss. I shoot the hairy stink eye at my waker. In my school days, I would flounder around in my bed, pretending not to hear her, and often make excuses that it was Ed or Lauren's turn to get up first. I'd do just about anything to stay in bed longer. When I eventually got up, at some point in the routine I'd hear the familiar whir of the electric orange juicer through the muffled sounds of the WMGK morning show that Madge would jam out to (she's into country these days...she had much better taste when she was into Wham.) This would be enough encouragement to start my day.
I would rush downstairs with a few minutes to spare before having to flash out the door and swipe my juice from the table. Some days I would have a few extra minutes to spare to sit down to enjoy my breakfast: bacon and cheese whiz first, carefully saving the OJ for last. I'm of the crop of people who enjoy a thick, pulpy glass of the stuff- some days I would like to have the juice strained and eat the pulp by itself, other days I would ask Gram to let the flotsam swim throughout so I could take in a little with each sip.
This morning my adolescent treat was relived in my own kitchen. I took my time getting ready this morning since I won't finish practice tonight until 8pm. All week I've been enjoying new juice concoctions but this morning was by far the best I've made yet: Orange Pineapple juice. The fruit was so sweet and so ripe...I was only upset that I didn't make more.
The one difference that I noticed while brewing my morning nectar was the sound that the machine made. A juicer sounds little more like a buzz saw while an citrus juicer omits a sound that I can't quite put my finger on...a mix between a vacuum cleaner on a wet shag rug, the sound of car wash sponges wetly slapping against a windshield and Fozzie Bear's voice.
I highly suggest getting a juicer- and only paying $10 to a guy named Cook at the Media train station for it. Best $10 we ever spent.
My favorite juice of all time is freshly squeeze orange juice.
Gram and Gramp would come over every morning to help get us off to school. While mom was running around with her own routine (which is strikingly similar to the tornado method that I've picked up- not enough time and WAY too many tasks) Gramp would make himself comfortable on the couch for a nap (it was 7am after all) and Gram would get to work on our breakfast.
Growing up and living mainly with Madge, cash was a little tight. Although my parents certainly supported each other we didn't have a Barbie Dream House or newest GIJoe toys, but we were by no means neglected. There were a some things here and there we went without but there were also a few little luxuries that Madge would not skimp on- namely certain delicious treats that I now rely on in my adult life as quick, go-to delights.
One that needs no explanation is a brown bag favorite; a Cheese Whiz and bacon sandwich. The other is a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. In retrospect, Madge probably spared no expense here for the 10 pound bag of oranges and saw this as preventative medicine (she also packed a sliced apple in our lunches everyday... that I threw in the trash...everyday.)
It's funny, I actually consider myself a morning person...but I'm not not sure others would be inclined to agree- although I like to get up early, it HAS to be on my own terms. Waking me up for school each day was a chore that I'm sure Madge would've been happy to trade in at any time. Simply stated: I'm a grump when I'm woken up. I hiss. I shoot the hairy stink eye at my waker. In my school days, I would flounder around in my bed, pretending not to hear her, and often make excuses that it was Ed or Lauren's turn to get up first. I'd do just about anything to stay in bed longer. When I eventually got up, at some point in the routine I'd hear the familiar whir of the electric orange juicer through the muffled sounds of the WMGK morning show that Madge would jam out to (she's into country these days...she had much better taste when she was into Wham.) This would be enough encouragement to start my day.
I would rush downstairs with a few minutes to spare before having to flash out the door and swipe my juice from the table. Some days I would have a few extra minutes to spare to sit down to enjoy my breakfast: bacon and cheese whiz first, carefully saving the OJ for last. I'm of the crop of people who enjoy a thick, pulpy glass of the stuff- some days I would like to have the juice strained and eat the pulp by itself, other days I would ask Gram to let the flotsam swim throughout so I could take in a little with each sip.
This morning my adolescent treat was relived in my own kitchen. I took my time getting ready this morning since I won't finish practice tonight until 8pm. All week I've been enjoying new juice concoctions but this morning was by far the best I've made yet: Orange Pineapple juice. The fruit was so sweet and so ripe...I was only upset that I didn't make more.
The one difference that I noticed while brewing my morning nectar was the sound that the machine made. A juicer sounds little more like a buzz saw while an citrus juicer omits a sound that I can't quite put my finger on...a mix between a vacuum cleaner on a wet shag rug, the sound of car wash sponges wetly slapping against a windshield and Fozzie Bear's voice.
I highly suggest getting a juicer- and only paying $10 to a guy named Cook at the Media train station for it. Best $10 we ever spent.
Comments
/hates pulpy OJ