Judy P's Tickle Trunk

…or A Passion for Pineapple.

I seem to have developed a preoccupation with all things pineapple. It all started back in December when we were camping at Jekyll Island and I admired the pineapple Christmas decoration by the RV behind us.

I went from there to having a pineapple for a Christmas tree.

When we were waiting for the deal to close on our new-to-us manufactured home (yes, folks, another story – we have gone from Tin Can Tourists to Ticky Tacky Snowbirds (as in Joni Mitchell’s Little Boxes)(how many sets of parentheses can one use in one sentence?))) We were checking out the Thrift stores so see if we could get some rudimentary furnishings to get us by til next season. It was killing me not to buy the stuff I saw – I have never been known for my patience – so I made do with picking just one thing to suppress the urges for instant gratification. I bought me a pineapple cookie jar. It’s been all pineapples from there on. Now I never would have said that I was one for pineapples. I associated them with old people and I mean old as any Great Great Grandmother, who would have had reams of pineapple doilies and who liked to eat orange-pineapple ice cream while we enjoyed our strawberry flavor or at  fanciest, banana splits. They would bring pineapple squares to church teas or skewer rings with a cherry in the middle on hams for Easter dinner. The only thing pineapple I enjoyed as a kid was Pineapple Crush pop, which was so sweet it made my eyes cross.  I digress. Once living in the house it was back to the Thrift store for odds and ends like a cookie rack and a frying pan but , oh my heavens, “Lance, look, it has pineapple feet!!”   The next day two young fellows hefted this delightful armoire up the steps to our living room. A smoking deal was had, probably because one of the pineapple feet fell off and there is a piece of trim missing. Plenty good enough for me. I began to wonder about all the pineapple stuff here in Florida; after all they aren’t even grown here. It must be because of their ‘tropical’ flair. (I Wiki’d pineapple to see where they are grown. I was delighted to discover the math of pineapples; that the fruit is an arrangement of interlocking helices, 8 in one direction, 13 in the other, each being a Fibonacci number) In the meantime we needed a table. Lot’s of chrome and glass but I like something a little more trad. Bring on the pineapples, Craigslist.   Now please don’t start sending me all of your old Aunt Biddy’s pineapple stuff. I have no wish to become The Crazy Pineapple Lady. Indeed, I think I put the pineapple theme to rest last night by sketching it out of my head. Now I must go and see about mixing a pina colada. Maybe I could enlist Lance to drill a couple of holes in a coconut to give my drink a more tropical flair. Mmmmm, coconut – do I feel a new obsession coming on?

Today’s post was brought to you by the letter P and the colour yellow. Pineapple yellow, that is.

© Judy Parsons 2015