Eating a pineapple is a lot of work. Sometimes I have the pleasure of enjoying it after having wrestled with the spikes and tough skin. Usually though I take the wimp route and buy it in the can. Then I simply pretend that pineapple consumption carries no cost. 

 

The interesting thing is, although I have not carried out any research, that the deliciousness factor actually increases with the effort expended. 

 

Let me explain. Think about the Easter candy that took you half an hour to ferret out from between the tufts of grass it was nestled in. It was a ten, right? Whereas the lollipops that sit in a jar at the bank are a mere 2. I have watched children tromp vigorously through the back yard to find mediocre prizes in a treasure hunt, when those same trinkets would scarcely register as interesting if the kids stepped on them on the living room floor. 

 

I remember one time I was slogging through a prickly conversation to try to understand what John was saying. He was obviously upset about a tense board meeting. I was accelerating my efforts to find out what had transpired, and what the repercussions were. The louder I got, the less inclined he was to talk. 

 

Finally, in a timid voice he said, "If I tell you why I am upset, then I will have to deal with your upset too."

 

That conversation, some fifteen years ago, still tastes sweet in my memory. I can picture where we were standing, and the wonder of finally understanding how he felt. Much as I cherish the fuzzy memories of gushing proclamations of adoration when we were falling in love, I do not remember them so clearly. There were a lot of romantic exchanges, but there was no struggle involved.

 

"I love you so much!"

 

"I love you even more, my darling!"

 

Yeah, it was cute and all. But it was too easy.

 

So bring on the prickly fruit. My sleeves are already rolled up. 

 

Photo by Chara Odhner

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