November 27, 2011: Loquat toil

I was sleeping like a small soft log when, around 5am, the herd of other-guests started trickling home from their night on the town. At first, my ceiling thundered as some of them rolled their way into bed, in the room directly upstairs. Then, the rest of them, all guffawing-drunk, decided to sit in the living room (right outside my door) and bellow. Occasionally someone would shush the group, and be duly ignored. I was too groggy and too timid to go tell a pack of maybe-belligerent drunks to shut the hell up in Spanish.

Around 10am, they all woke up and resettled in the living room, hollering more soberly about their plans for the day. I waited until they had left to get up, not in the mood to feign politeness, and feeling as though I hadn’t slept at all. I went to fix my breakfast, and discovered they had stolen a third of my brand-new loaf of banana bread. Of course, this is not the end of the world, but it’s still irritating. I stomp my little feet.

My plan for the day was to buckle down and finish next week’s volunteer-job hours. It was less manageable given my tiredness, but I still achieved it. Woo. Did nothing else of interest, though. Although I did get around to sampling the loquats.

Loquat sliced in half.
Innards all cleaned out.
Loquat seeds are rather pretty. Pearlescent.
Ta-da!

I really like loquats, far more than I do the wayward cherimoya. The best way I can think to describe them is if you combine the flavors of apple, orange, and plum, and then put that flavor into the body/texture of an apricot. I’ll have to eat as many as I can while I’m here.

7 thoughts on “November 27, 2011: Loquat toil

  1. The top part, where the stem was, looks like it’s gotten stitches, or been hemmed up.
    Unbelievable, the bread-taking. I’m pissed. I’m gonna go over there and have a little chat with them.
    Fuckers.

    1. Yeah. Pack of rude assholes. Sigh. But I think they were only here for one night, so I shall never have to see them again. I’m glad that you get defensive of me. That you’d pick fights for me — it means so much!

      Here’s what the stitch-part looks like from the outside. It’s just like a little sphincter. I speak, of course, of stomach-sphincters. Google-image search the related “medlars” — they’re even worse. Did you read the Shakespeare medlars link I posted a few days back?

  2. My Dearest Daughters,

    You may want to consider the possibility of being slightly less free with your assholes and fucks, because, while sometimes important, other times they’re not, and at those times they might seem a bit superfluous when read by your ancient grandmother who is lurking on these very pages even as we speak. I mean, do what you want, God knows, but do it with and awareness of one Small and Elderly Eastern Matriarch.

    That said, I suppose there may be a certain sphincteral resemblance, though I can’t say for certainty on account of my lack of observational experience.

    I’m happy you’re having fun with loquats, Lulu. Loquat Lulu, they call her down South. Enraged Eleni: remind me never to eat YOUR banana bread!

    xoxo

    1. My Dearest Mother,
      I am always aware of this possibility, and thus, I use utterances like “assholes” only when it is very clearly merited — as I think it was here. And of course, I specified that I referred to the sphincter of the stomach; who can blame me there? Also, I believe that my grandmotherly one has the fortitude to deal with such colloquialisms. She may be Small, but she ain’t delicate! (She’s quite cute actually.)
      Woov.

  3. No doubt the horde did not think it did anything wrong or untoward. After all, the banana bread was there like any other food in the house; and if they’re up at 5am, then surely so is everyone else in the world that matters! This pack reminds me of the (rather huge) group of “friends” of some roommates who decided to stay for “a few nights” — that turned into 2 weeks. I quickly learned to move all my stuff into my room, because at least that bit was sacrosanct to them, amazingly enough. That experience also made me decide to avoid all roommates forever. Hopefully you are not driven to either of these extremes!

    The loquat looks extremely tasty! I am very jealous of you because it looks like I will not be able to find fresh samplings at Google since the leading producers are not local, according to Wikipedia:

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loquat#Cultivation

    Or maybe not …?

    http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-loquat.htm

    I feel a need to challenge our foodies at work!

  4. Fucking awesome on you finishing your spanish class!

    I found your bread stealing drunkards and beat them for you. They enjoyed it, and promise never to do it again. They were properly chastised. In fact, they wanted the chastisement to continue, but I don’t swing that way. Instead, I turned down the city streets, found an alleyway where a hot, leather clad rocker chick was waiting for me. I’ll let you imagine the rest of the story.

Comments are closed.