Love my huge carrot.
The tiny lemon is, as some readers likely know, old old news, but I couldn't resist reprising it today as an introduction to yesterday's lunch with its surprisingly enormous carrot.
Frances, the janitor in Lathrop Hall, loves to tease me about my lunches, which typically consist of a whole-wheat pita, carrots (or, in the above instance, a carrot), red-pepper hummus, and Brown Cow maple yogurt. I believe that Frances teases me in part because she only ever sees the pita and the carrot(s): I eat in my office, but beforehand I take the carrot(s) and pita to the kitchen, for to wash the former and toast the latter. It always appears that I'm eating a very light lunch. Of course, Frances teases me primarily because we're friends and we like to laugh together. She calls me Rabbit. Yesterday, after I pulled this doozie out of my 2# bag of organic Bunny Love carrots, I couldn't wait to brandish it and threaten Frances, telling her I'd whack her with my huge carrot if she made fun of my rabbit food. She laughed and asked if I grew the carrot in my own garden. She doesn't know me quite well enough to realize that, had I a proper garden, I would harvest only tiny carrots, tiny enough to fit in a tiny knapsack, tinier still, tiny as a tiny lemon's tiny tiny seed.
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