So, my husband C and I were in NYC on Valentine's Day, having dinner at Spice Market. It's a fantastic restaurant: very trendy, very chic, very romantic. Since I'm: A. not very trendy, B. hardly chic, and C. much more of a giggler than a romantic, I was doing my best to be a grown-up.
It didn't last long.
We had just been seated at our table. I was perusing the menu of delicious-looking cocktails (and privately wondering if it would be unseemly to just order all of them at once) when my eyes froze on this one:
Now, I had a vague notion of what a kumquat is. And that vague notion was that a kumquat is 1. a word that is impossible to say without snickering at the very least, and 2. probably a vegetable.
I blinked. Then I read it again. Out loud. Kumquat. Mojito. Snort. Snicker. Giggle.
I looked over at C, who looked up from his menu with questioning eyes. I carefully pointed to the incriminating drink, then clapped my hands over my mouth to stifle the great guffaws I could feel coming on. He cracked the tiniest bit of a smile (having learned from experience that it is never a good idea to fully encourage me).
Usually I would have dissolved into hoots of laughter by this point, but I managed to compose myself, take a deep breath, and regain the illusion of adulthood once again.
But that was not the end of it. Oh, no.
The next day, I was at the grocery store. Understand, I live in a two-stop-light town (we added the second one last year) so our produce section is typically garden variety. But that day, as I went in search of oranges, guess what I found serendipitously stacked in between the oranges and lemons?
Huh. A kumquat is not a vegetable. It's a fruit.
But kumquat is still funny to say.