There will never be a word in this blog that does not come from complete, absolute, 100% (and at least six other synonyms for “all”) honesty. That is why I am saying to you now that this entry was this close to absolutely not being entered. Taxes are due Tuesday, I just got done fighting the city on approval of a variance on my property yesterday, and last night I believe it was the liquorice that gave me absolutely insane dreams all night so I got no sleep. At one point there were hundreds of geese running up the street behind me like they were participating in some kind of marathon!
So, about 7PM, on my way home from getting my hair cut, it occurred to me that I had done nothing about today’s National Peach Cobbler Day. I had time to run by the grocery store, but that was going to be it. Well, I guess it wasn’t too shocking that the bakery did not have cobbler of any kind what so ever. So that was it, right? There was nothing left to do except pass through the frozen food section.
As I walked towards the cash register with my Mrs Callender’s frozen peach cobbler in hand, I really started to feel kind of bad. I mean, a frozen cobbler? Talk about no effort! Then, as I was waiting in line to be rung up, I began to remember something. I really do not like peach cobbler. I really don’t even like peaches. Even before I developed my fresh fruit allergy, I was just never a fan of this fruit that has the creepy texture of a fourteen year old boy’s face. Plus, they’re all slimy inside. And that pit? What’s with the size of that thing, right? I mean, Jeesh!
Even still, I’ve had many peach cobblers, and I’ve never liked even one of them, mainly due to the peaches. So, I suppose I was perfectly fine with not knocking myself out making my own peach cobbler, or finding “the perfect” one that is still just going to make me go, “Eh…” I like the crusty bread topping part, which is actually quite great for today’s National Peach Cobbler Day, because the topping is actually the “cobble” part. It’s cobbled together up on top there, spooned and floated on the peach filling, so that the filling can kind of goosh through a bit.
In the end, I ate it. It’s not like I absolutely hate the thing. It’s just that I’d prefer just about any other dessert over peach cobbler. Cooked peaches are like weird syrupy sweet, orange oysters. Think about that! I mean, would you? So, you see what I’m saying when I say, “bleh?”
See you Saturday for National Pecan Day!