Oranges

Dad planted some orange trees on the side yard of our house. He tried to convince us that they tasted better than store-bought, but we used them more as ammunition in our sling shots than as food.

Oranges are a very big deal to Dad and were an important commodity in our home. They were guaranteed to be in our stocking (along with a toothbrush and Tic-Tacs--I don't get it either).

I always said I wouldn't marry a man unless he could peel an orange in one piece. (Husband cuts them.)

It's nasty, but in December my left thumb nail always turns yellow.

I owe my addiction to Dad.

Dad's car always smelled like oranges and cereal. I have fond memories of getting into his well heated Old Faithful Benz at night to talk with him and he always had orange peels in the cereal cup in the center of the console and a spare orange by the door.

Oranges were a staple food at our house. Many of my school lunches consisted of three oranges and maybe some Saltines.

At FHE one night, I started crying because my stomach hurt. (I was/am very dramatic.) Dad asked what I'd eaten that day. And I told him six oranges. Only six oranges. That's it. Dad laughed at me and said, "Well, you'd better not just eat oranges."

On our annual trips to buy a Christmas tree, we'd eat oranges while we walked around the lot, and we'd throw the peels under the trees. (It's OK. They are biodegradable.)

I've never had a hard time sharing food with my baby, until this week when I introduced him to oranges. He loves them more than I do! And maybe even more than Dad does! He demolishes them. He eats them so quickly that I feel like he's not appreciating them!

Oranges and Dad were such a big, happy, sweet part of my life, but I never thought oranges could be the end of Dad.

I was supposed to meet Dad in the Netherlands during our layover on our trip to Europe. My plane was delayed and I was in a complete panic, but some random saint helped him get on his connection.

When I got to the airport in Rome, I thought Dad would be waiting there. He wasn't. Somehow the tour group leader found him and put him on an earlier bus to the hotel.

I arrived at the hotel in a panic because only his bags were in the room.

I said a prayer and search the streets of Rome, yes, Rome for Dad. After walking around a few blocks, I found him...holding a bag of ORANGES!

He told me that when he got to the hotel he was hungry, so he found a fruit market but was disappointed that he only had and America dollar. Being Dad, they gave him the oranges for free.

The length the man goes to for oranges. The length his guardian angels go to to protect him while he finds oranges...Priceless!

The orange trees on the side yard have since been torn down to make room for renovations and additions; however, I can guarantee there's half a box of oranges sitting in the kitchen, being consumed at each meal.

In honor of Dad, I ate 2 1/2 oranges today. Yes, only 2 1/2 because my baby ate the other half. So the tradition, nay, obsession continues.