Do You Want Me To Peel It?

Late afternoon on a Saturday not too long ago, I'm in the kitchen making some coffee.

From the family room comes the request "Can I have a banana?"

Turning towards the counter with bananas thereon, I pick one up, and ask "Do you want me to peel it?"

This has multitudes of meaning, of course. Does the person asking want to eat the banana now, or does she want to hang on to it for a bit before consuming it, and what will she do with the peel?

"Yes, please" comes the reply. So I do, and hand her the peeled banana on a paper plate with a napkin paper towel.

Another night, we're having authentic south-of-the-border - I didn't say which border, now did I? - food from Taco Bell. We have it down to a science, to a point. I bring in the mystery meat vittles and put them on paper plates, but not without asking "Do you want me to peel it?"

Yes, it's our little rut, Marilee and I. But a happy one nonetheless. For whatever it is we're doing, or eating, somewhere in the conversation I'll ask if it needs to be peeled. Anything.

So earlier this week, Marilee and I opted for a day trip to Wendover. I've written a bit in the past about Wendover, so I won't duplicate the effort. But before we left, we stopped at a convenience store to pick up some munchies; some chips, a candy bar or two, and I got a Coke for myself - Marilee had a bottle of water from home.

"Oh, and get me some SnoBalls."

OK, so I think I'd had Hostess SnoBalls somewhere back in my youth. And I think I remember hating them. A marshmallow-y coconut coating around a chocolate cake-with-filling center. But what Marilee wants, Marilee gets. Usually.

So I'm back in the car with our stash of munchies, and we're about to drive off when she says...

I'd grabbed some real napkins before walking out of the store; this proved to be a well-thought-out idea, as she says to me:

"I eat my SnoBalls in a most-peculiar way. I..."

Wait for it...

"Peel them first."

She's on her own with this one.