It is that time of year again when watermelons are as plentiful as mosquitoes here in Arkansas. After our party this past weekend, we found ourselves to be in possession of not one, but two large Hope watermelons (no, they aren't named after me, but the town in Southwest AR where they are grown). And we could have had a third, if one party-goer had carried through on an impulse. Ack!
Don't get me wrong, I like to eat watermelon. But two fully grown, ripe watermelon for two people is too much. Our fridge can't hold them both, and neither of us wants to eat just watermelon. So, last night I slaughtered them both (to use a phrase I once heard a co-worker use in just that context. It is fitting) and cut them into small pieces. Two bowls full are for a work party today, and one went with Benjamin to find a new home in the Philosophy department.
The problem with watermelon, to me, is the water. They are just full of it, and it is sticky, and it gets all over everything. Our sliding glass door was covered with child-sized watermelon fingerprints after the party. I dripped watermelon juice all over the counter and floor last night during the slaughter. I looked at one of the watermelon a little funny and juice started to form on the counter. They are sort of hard to do anything with too. I mean, there are watermelon soup recipes, and I suppose I could try to make popsicles, but I just am not particularly inspired to do so. Not in the way I am with peaches or strawberries.
Then there are the seeds. As a child, I heard the myth that any swallowed seeds would grow into a watermelon in your stomach. I don't think I ever really believed it, but I still don't like swallowing the seeds. And I have never been much good at spitting them, and since I usually eat watermelon inside at a table, spitting usually isn't much of an option anyway.
So, if anyone wants some watermelon, hit me up. I still have 2/3 of one in the fridge at home.