I confess. I broke down and ordered the Oregon peaches from that wildly over-priced mail-order fruit company. I actually paid $44.92 for 18 peaches. That’s $2.50 per peach.
This isn’t them. Can you tell? They certainly look an awful lot like the ones that arrived 2nd-day air on my doorstep today, all individually wrapped in tissue paper and cushioned with foam pillows.
This isn’t the first time I have caved and shelled out big bucks for peaches. One year I even asked for them for my birthday. We were stationed in Hawaii then, and I knew it was my only chance to get a decent peach until we returned to the Mainland. So what’s my excuse this time? I miss peaches. That’s all. It made me extremely cranky to have to find a new breakfast routine to take the place of my usual bowl of Cheerios with a peach cut up on top. Blueberries were plentiful for a while, but they just don’t have enough flavor. And bananas? Not even close. Why not just buy some peaches from the grocery store, you ask? Umm…have you tasted those sorry excuses for peaches ever. Please.
Extravagant? Yep. They are so expensive, it’s embarrassing. But who among us doesn’t have our little indulgences? Premium channels on your cable. Weekly manicure. Regular root touch-ups or highlights. Snobby wine or boutique beer. Subscription to Us or People magazine. This is America, after all. We’re known around the world for our over-the-top behavior. Does Disney World or the ’57 Chevy ring a bell? And yes, I know there are people who don’t earn $2.50 in a month or who get their food from trash heaps. At least I’m supporting some American farmer–who just happens to live 3000 miles away from me.
So to all of my friends who are buy-local enthusiasts: I’m sorry. I’m weak. It was the peaches; they called to me. And to other members of the Uncommon household: I’m rationing them out carefully. They know better than to get between me and my peaches. Oh, they know.