Peeling pomegranates is about as tedious and messy as anything you can think of, so you put it off until the next day.
But before you get the chance to peel the pomegranates, your husband comes down in a monogrammed shirt and peels his own pomegranate, squirting copious amounts of the stain-making equivalent of motor oil all over his business clothes.
Since he won't shop for clothes, one more good outfit bites the dust.
Do you take off his shirt and treat it with stain remover right away?
You do not.
HOUSEHOLD TIP: Kitchen scissors can take a monogrammed dress shirt and turn it into a dishrag immediately. As long as the shirt is all cotton or linen, it won't repel water.
Suddenly, as soon as the opportunity for a really big mess creates a carnival atmosphere, there is a Greek chorus of "I want some pomegranates too!"
Over and over and over.
You consol yourself because pomegranates might be an SAT test question in 12 to 17 years.
You go upstairs and put on your pomegranate-stained chemise and make everyone strip in the kitchen in order to make the point for all eternity that pomegranates are not peeled or eaten until everyone is either naked, or nearly naked. Which is kind of a Greek idea anyway. So you peel and they eat, but you don't. Because after you have peeled them all, you are sick of pomegranates.
So the next time you buy pomegranates, you peel them naked yourself, when no one is ding-donging you.
So you think about the myth of Persephone and Hades and Demeter. That leads to thoughts of Taki Theodoracopulos, a Greek, and his highly entertaining online magazine Taki, a magazine you used to read, written by someone you used to know.
And you think of going to Greece and eating pomegranates on a boat.
Which is impossible for a while, even though you did that once, and hope springs eternal because you keep buying swimsuits in an 8.
Reach Tracy Herz at tracyh...@gmail.com.