It was Christmas. It would be a “healthy” gift…to me. I could justify a fifth mortgage on The George. I was worth it. This magic machine could make vegetable soups piping hot, fruit delights into ice cream, and if necessary, do small loads of laundry
Vegetables would all be crushed beyond recognition so I wouldn’t know what I was eating and it wouldn’t matter if the fruit were a little soft. I could just blend, blink, and drink. The instructions clearly stated, “If you are a new user, follow the recipes and make your own concoctions only after you master measurements and combinations.” I did, sort of.
I opened the refrigerator and retrieved three well-meaning but furry tomatoes. They were going to be squished anyway, right? The carrots were still hard…petrified maybe. Beta carotene is so good for you. A little yellowed broccoli—I threw that in with some slightly browned cauliflower.
Potatoes are a nice addition to soup and these were amazingly fresh, only a few foot-long sprouts. Sprouts are good. Onions add a lot of flavor and with blending, I wouldn’t get onion globs. Add bell peppers, leftover pickled beets, and celery.
Snow peas, I didn’t know whether to shell them or not. These blades were capable of splintering full-grown Douglas firs, surely a few snow pods would be no problem. And, how about some leftover salad that wouldn’t make it through the holidays anyway. I added flaxseed, dashes of whatever graced my spice rack since 1986, parsley, garlic, Cajun, sea salt, plus chicken and beef bouillon cubes. A cup of Worcestershire sauce and a package of tofu should do something.
Let’s see, I had bulk for my brain and the blahs. I had something for the high cholesterol, blood sugar, triglycerides, blood pressure, and an antidepressant if it didn’t work out.
The machine was so powerful it wouldn’t work with my inverter so I enlisted the generator. A short zap and hot soup. I didn’t feel so good and that was before I ate it! Maybe the fruit would work out better.
Oranges and grapefruit have lots of vitamin C and they are a great source of calcium. Since I’m getting shorter as time goes by, maybe that would strengthen my spine. The experts said to peel them but leave the pith because it was full of vitamins, cut them in half, and blend, seeds and all. Who knew? I ate them seedless and pithless for years.
I was excelling in experimentation. For fluid, I added a can of frozen passion fruit. Into the mix went starfruit, Ugli fruit, kiwi, and strawberries (antioxidants and vitamin C). Fresh pineapple instructions said to remove the outside but leave the fibrous core for the digestive enzymes. I added nonfat yogurt with live cultures.
It was exciting being fruitful, but mangos were a mystery. How do you know if a mango is ripe? I watched it for several days and it didn’t do anything so I gave it a bath. You are greatly encouraged to wash everything with soap and water. I dutifully bathed the mango in Ultra Palmolive with Aromatherapy of Lavender & Ylang Ylang Essence. It couldn’t hurt.
Cutting the mango in half lengthwise, I tried to force it apart like a peach. That didn’t work. I peeled it and that was a mistake because then I had the whole mushy mess to deal with. By the time I chunked a few pieces off, I had it all over my new white sweatshirt and the kitchen counter. It infiltrated into the stovetop and burners, the floor, one drawer inadvertently left open, and three-fourths of the campground.
I am woman. I refused to let the mango beat me. It slipped and slid and tried to escape but I held tight. I cut off about 14 cups more than I needed. After all the trouble, I wasn’t going to leave any on the pit. I gnawed it like a steak bone. By this time I had a completely orange sweatshirt, my face looked like a Halloween Jack-o-lantern, and everything was deep enough in orange do do to spread all the way to Manhattan (and I was north of Seattle).
After wrestling the mango for two hours, the mango didn’t need to go into the magic machine any more, it was already crushed beyond recognition. Maybe it was worth the struggle. Mangos have very few calories and they’re full of nutrition.
And then I found this interesting suggestion, “For a different taste, add frozen margarita concentrate.”
It was all blended with ice cubes.
It was yummy!
One teensy taste for me, a teensy taste for my RV neighbors, a teensy taste for me, a teensy taste for the office staff, a teensy taste for me, and teensy tastes for the rest of the campground. They all thought it was yummy and I still had enough left over to fill a big mug for Santa.
Everyone slept in on Christmas morning. That was OK, but I did feel a little guilty about the reports of an erratic red UFO streaking across the sky singing at the top of his lungs. Maybe I put a teensy bit too much margarita mix in my Veggiefruitamagimixer concoction.
Merry Christmas and God Bless.
p.s.: I’m not sure the magic machine’s healthy aspects are working. At the very least I expected the age spots to spread until they touched each other and then it would look like I had a great tan.
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