Lately I’ve got a real thing for lemons which I’m pretty certain is because life keeps throwing them at me.
For instance, I bought a lemon-bedecked tablecloth for the kitchen, matching lemon-flecked napkins, and a package of very pretty faux lemons I plopped in a white soup tureen and placed in the center of the table. I added several touches of lemon to my gray and white living room too, and I can even foresee a time not too far in the future when my lemon love will spread through every inch of this place including my seventeen year-old son’s room, which I plan to “decorate” with the strongest lemon-scented air fresheners I can find.
“Go ahead, life,” my growing fondness for the bright yellow fruit seems to be saying, “take your best shot. Bean me right in the kisser. But beware, I make a mean lemonade.”
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