I must admit something. I have often dreamed that I was the grand poomba, of such things as pomegranates, middle-aged drafted dodgers turned Banff ski instructors, and road maps of Brussels, and all sorts of other menially exotic items. I'm sure all these things have their own dynasties who grow wealthy upon their fruits. Now what bothers me about these dreams is that when I awake my first thought is always I should plan a coup to become the grand czar of chocolate covered ferns leaves that cure painkiller addictions, and which is actually a much more enlightening thought than the one it precedes. That maybe being a lowly student with nothing but a drafty room in a shady apartment building isn't so bad, since at least no one is gunning for my title as the Duke of Northern Studious Squalor. Now only if I could afford pomegranate juice and a trip to Brussels...
Friday, March 21, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 Ommission and Retractions:
Coincidently I was just speaking of pomegranates last night as a friend sipped his martini.
My problem with pomegranates is how under-appreciated they are. I say this only because of their size. Pomegranates are so little that I honestly can't imagine how many make up the liter of pomegranate juice that I buy at the market. I say they under-appreciated only because the price of my pomegranate juice is the same as my grape juice. Seem even to you?
Maybe its just a canadian thing but pomegranate juice carries a heavy premium price up here. On the other hand it is delicious and well worth that premium when that deliciousness is required for saition
Post a Comment