A is for Apple

Last night, I was accused of being an apple-pusher. I guess there are worse things to be called :) I was curious about the validity of the "apple-a-day" saying, so I checked it out on the web, and as always, I learned a bunch of cool stuff (not particularly all what I was looking for, but cool nonetheless :P).

For example, did you know that apple seeds, commonly called "pips," were first brought to America by the Colonists from Europe? I also learned about the volume measurement called the "hogshead?" I guess it's a barrel that holds anywhere between 63 and 140 gallons . . . not super precise, if you ask me, but kinda spiffy to know;) Oh! And it appears that the wood from apple trees is used in making golf clubs, and adds really good flavor if you smoke meat with it.

The website also says that in Ancient Greece, when a man wanted to propose to a woman, all he would have to do was throw her an apple . . . and if she caught it, he could know that she accepted his offer . . . somehow, I don't see that as fair. Gals, I guess you'd have to be careful about controlling those reflexes if he wasn't the right one, but was sneaky and threw an apple your way! :P

Now, for those health benefits, it's said that apples:

are good for digestion,

improve the function of your immune system,

could prevent cancer, heart disease, coronary artery disease, and diabetes,

help in reducing fevers when served grated,

can relieve a dry cough--steam them and serve with honey! :)

AND

massage your gums and clean your teeth when you eat them!

. . . and that's just scratching the surface of the benefits of eating apples. And you wonder, Shalyn, why we "push" our apples on you, dear? Although, after learning all this, I'm going to have to make sure to grab enough for myself as well!

Happy snackin'! ;)

Random Act of Kindness

A few days ago, after a full morning of chem, political economics, and American history (oh yeah, liberal arts :P), I meandered back to Olds to regroup for the afternoon shift of studying. Now it's become a natural action for every Olds girl, when approaching the stairs, to take a glance over her shoulder in faint hopes that there will be something, anything, waiting in her mailbox. This is done every time she makes a trip down the hallway, without exception, even if it's three in the morning and she just checked four and a half minutes ago.

Well, on this particular day, I was about to take my first step down the stairs to lower-right (affectionately known as "Jukebox Hall"), when over my left shoulder I caught a glimpse of red peeking from a mailbox . . . MY mailbox! Someone had left a pack of KitKat bars in my humble little cubby hole, third box down on the right. Completely unaware of any reason anyone would leave such a trifle of goodness in my box, I checked again to make sure that it was indeed my mailbox, and then looked around for any witnesses of the deposit. Seeing none, I reacted in the only logical way I could think of. I shamelessly grabbed the KitKats and ran.

I couldn't risk someone realizing that they had been left in the wrong mailbox. Once I arrived safely back to room 110, I dropped the promising package on my desk, but promptly started to feel a sense of guilt. What if these were meant for someone else? What did I do to deserve these crispy wafers, covered in creamy chocolate? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So there they sat for several days, me eyeing them longingly every time I entered the room.

After about 4 days, I finally realized that no one was coming to take the KitKats away from me, and that they were mine. But, even though the spotting and snatching of them was pretty exhilerating, I sure wasn't getting to enjoy the delight of the true purpose of this gift by just picking it up from my mailbox --- or even from really, really wanting to eat it. Nope. To actually experience the joy of chocolate is to bust open the covering plastic, rip off the foil wrapper, and eat it up. What a simple concept.

So, I don't know who randomly left KitKats in my mailbox . . . but thank you :)