Who gives a fig!
Have any of you heard that expression? I suppose it's regional. I heard it as a kid, somewhere. Don't know where as I was a kid in a lot of different places.
I'm guessing it's a euphemism for 'who gives a fuck'. But, to bring me to my point I must get on with it.
Figs. Perhaps many of you have never eaten a fresh fig. I don't think it's a particularly popular fruit it the U.S.. Here, in Mexico, however, they are thought to be exquisite. During their season they are eaten in a variety of ways, fresh, made into a marmalade or cooked and doused in milk.
Leti has three fig trees in her garden/orchard. One has all but given up and she had me cut it back to a nubbin. Of the other two, one produces a pale green fig and the other a purple. In my opinion the purples are sweeter and juicier. Others, though, prefer the pale green.
We are eating them daily, because there are so many. Along with mangoes and papaya, which are also in season, we eat a lot of fruit during the summer.
When I'm alone I don't eat fruit, too much paring, too many seeds and stuff. But, when prepared and set in front of me I enjoy a dish of fruit. Leti insists that I eat fruit. She believes it counterbalances my too long cocktail hours.
I don't think there's any proof of that. Anyway, who gives a fig?.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning—how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse. - Goerge Gordon Noel Byron
MEXICO (as I see it):
If anyone is interested in learning about Mexico, and I don't mean what hotel to stay in, the two best books I have ever read on the subject are: People's Guide to Mexico by Carl Franz, out dated but timeless, and Distant Neighbors by Alan Riding.
My first year in Mexico (1987) I referred to these two volumes constantly. I would return home each afternoon, confused, stunned and stupefied and tear through pages of these books trying find something, anything, that made sense of what I had just been through. And, inevitably, between the two of them, they managed to right my ship.
They are like two old friends. I have underlined so many passages in them that underlining no longer draws one's attention. Without Franz and Riding my first couple of years here would have been infinitly more mystifying.
Some years later, after I felt I had Mexico and its ways pretty much in hand, Leti came along. Nothing in my books could have prepared me for that. I'm seeing Mexico through her eyes and I still return every afternoon confused, stunned and stupefied.
I'm guessing it's a euphemism for 'who gives a fuck'. But, to bring me to my point I must get on with it.
Figs. Perhaps many of you have never eaten a fresh fig. I don't think it's a particularly popular fruit it the U.S.. Here, in Mexico, however, they are thought to be exquisite. During their season they are eaten in a variety of ways, fresh, made into a marmalade or cooked and doused in milk.
Leti has three fig trees in her garden/orchard. One has all but given up and she had me cut it back to a nubbin. Of the other two, one produces a pale green fig and the other a purple. In my opinion the purples are sweeter and juicier. Others, though, prefer the pale green.
We are eating them daily, because there are so many. Along with mangoes and papaya, which are also in season, we eat a lot of fruit during the summer.
When I'm alone I don't eat fruit, too much paring, too many seeds and stuff. But, when prepared and set in front of me I enjoy a dish of fruit. Leti insists that I eat fruit. She believes it counterbalances my too long cocktail hours.
I don't think there's any proof of that. Anyway, who gives a fig?.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning—how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse. - Goerge Gordon Noel Byron
MEXICO (as I see it):
If anyone is interested in learning about Mexico, and I don't mean what hotel to stay in, the two best books I have ever read on the subject are: People's Guide to Mexico by Carl Franz, out dated but timeless, and Distant Neighbors by Alan Riding.
My first year in Mexico (1987) I referred to these two volumes constantly. I would return home each afternoon, confused, stunned and stupefied and tear through pages of these books trying find something, anything, that made sense of what I had just been through. And, inevitably, between the two of them, they managed to right my ship.
They are like two old friends. I have underlined so many passages in them that underlining no longer draws one's attention. Without Franz and Riding my first couple of years here would have been infinitly more mystifying.
Some years later, after I felt I had Mexico and its ways pretty much in hand, Leti came along. Nothing in my books could have prepared me for that. I'm seeing Mexico through her eyes and I still return every afternoon confused, stunned and stupefied.
posted by bbuckman | 1:46 PM
1 Comments:
'Leti came along. Nothing in my books could have prepared me for that. I'm seeing Mexico through her eyes and I still return every afternoon confused, stunned and stupefied.' - Give Leti a kiss for me.
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