If you read my blog, you will know that my mind (convoluted and wandering) often takes me to very strange places. I need to say this up front so that you will be able to get a clue as to how I end up where I end up (that's certainly clearly stated, Ellen).
The other morning after my shower, I was applying a little blush, just a touch, because at sixty five one certainly has to be careful and tasteful with one's makeup. I thought to myself, "I believe I've heard that you are to apply blush to the Apples of your Cheeks."
I leaned closer to the mirror and tried to find the Apples of my Cheeks. For the life of me, I couldn't locate them. I believe that they simply dropped, faded or just left town when I wasn't looking. That led me to ruminating on the stages of my life and how they might be described as, or compared to food. I'm pretty sure that the following come close to representing my journey.
In Utero: Toad in a Hole
Infant/Babyhood: Bubble and Squeak, Flummery
Early Childhood: Peach Crisp, Jelly Tot, or Snickerdoodle
Adolescence/Early Adulthood: This stage escapes me. I would have liked to have been a Bombe, but alas, I didn't have the equipment.
Adulthood/Middle Aged: I've been a Nut Bar, a Fool, now and then a Crab Apple, On rare occasions, Stewed, Toasted or Deviled. When pregnant, I've been a Pudding and a Jelly Roll.
Mature Adult (euphemism for old): Again I'm not sure, but I suspect that one of these mornings when I'm leaning close to the mirror I'll realize that I've become an Apple Pan Dowdy, a Crumble, or God forbid, a prune.
(thank goodness that I have been the wrong gender to become a Spotted Dick!)