A friend gave me some oranges last week. She told me about how she had been juicing and juicing and juicing -- all week long. After she told me this I thought back to a fond childhood memory of my own...one that I'd like documented. I remember my father taking us over to a friends house (hint: they had 2 dalmations ;) we must have had my cousins with us (it would be highly unusual if my dad had not recruited workers for the task at hand). We started picking oranges and grapefruits. He had a red F-150 and we filled the entire bed of it with citrus. Then we drove home, the truck was heavy-laden with much fruit. Then he set up the "juicing stations". We had brought back a huge steel-stand juicer from Guadalajara (we had visited my grandparents there) and it was the heavy-duty kind, with the gigantic handle that you pushed down and out came the juice. He had to have gathered other juicers because there is no way we could have made it through on just one. I have no idea how long we were there, or how many hundreds of oranges and grapefruits we juiced....or what he even did with all that juice, but it was certainly memorable enough for both myself and my cousin to remember...and laugh about NOW (I don't think we were laughing then...probably crying from citrus stinging wounds).
So, I cut up some of these oranges my friend had given me, and left them on the counter with a juicer. My unsuspecting children wandered in and actually fought over who got to use the juicer and squeeze my oranges for me! Tricky...perhaps, but man it sure was good juice!
I chose to document it this as proof of happiness in their working...in case they happen to have "misguided" memories...
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