November 9: Where's The Pulp?

Today was the first time in six weeks that I woke up in my own bed. I'm back in Austin which means I'm back to my diet of Raisin Bran Crunch and Minute Maid Country Style orange juice. For six weeks it was Honey Nut Cheerios with fresh raspberries during the week and homemade breakfast entrees on the weekends. Cinnamon rolls, waffles, eggs and bacon, fresh fruit, etcetera. Now that I'm back on my own with a complete lack of interest in learning how to cook, I'm back to the basics.

While I sat alone at my kitchen table this morning lost in morning-groggy thought, I took a sip from my orange juice and I nearly spit it out. The Raisin Bran Crunch tasted normal. The milk residing in the bowl alongside the cereal tasted fine. The orange juice, however, was terrible. It wasn't terrible in a "rotten oranges" kind of way, though. It was terrible in a "not freshly picked from my backyard" kind of way.

When my family moved into our house, one of the first things my dad did was plant orange trees. Because they were just young trees when he planted them, they didn't provide much fruit for the first few years. Beyond that, though, I never had to eat or drink another store-bought orange until I moved out. Every weekend, we had an unlimited supply of freshly-squeezed juice that was rich in pulp (and Vitamin C) for breakfast and I had forgotten how nice it was to have it each morning.

I don't know what I was expecting when I opened the jug this morning. I had been drinking homegrown orange juice for a month and a half now. Why hadn't I realized how much I missed it? The orange liquid that I found myself drinking this morning was just that; Orange liquid. Dave Chappelle would call it "Orange Drink." It's not orange juice; it's orange drink. And where's the pulp? I like a lot of pulp so I buy the juice with the most. Minute Maid Country Style comes in three ways: No Pulp, Low Pulp, and Medium Pulp. That's it. No, Low, and Medium. Where's the High?

Now, I haven't looked that hard, but I have never found a Minute Maid Country Style High Pulp juice. There isn't even a place for it on the refrigerated shelf! I don't think they make it. That, of course, is ridiculous. That's like going to McDonald's and wanting a Large Coke but being told they have a, "No Coke, Small Coke, or Medium Coke." It's like reading a book's beginning, middle, and then flipping the page only to find the "About the Author" section. Where's the High Pulp?!

While getting myself reacquainted with the every day life in Austin, I anticipate finding other things that I took advantage of having while at home. I'm not looking forward to these moments, but I'm sure they're coming. For now, I'll have to play make-believe with my orange juice until I grow re-accustomed to its flavorless, pulpless consistency.