THE GUPPIES OF OUR LIVES

There they are...directly at your feet...willing martyrs...almost whimsical artifacts of stupidity, awaiting destiny’s hand.

Will they be quickly dispatched to board the whirling aquatic spiral of fate?  Yea, to surf upon the cool (sometimes vivid blue) waters of the flush-o-rama ride to the great beyond?

Or do they linger on a secret plane of destiny, and despise the foolish torment of lurking in the shadows of a world un-visited for months on end, while the twisted hand of terror creates a haunting specter of petrified perfection or fossilized speculation?

These are the Guppies of our lives.  And they deserve to, at last, be recognized among the greatest mysteries the world has ever known.

Hey there, folks, don’t stop reading just yet!  I’ve barely begun to delve into the psyche of the inscrutable Guppy.   And please be assured that I am not currently, or ever have resorted to, cooking up batches of wacky weed for subject matter.

You see, I was dusting and polishing the other day, and noticed that I had almost missed the corpse of a Wasp.  Uggies!

Well, I absolutely hate to disturb any entomological creature lying-in-state, but the thought of others paying their respects forced me to quickly stop this wake-in-progress.  Mr. or Ms. Wasp was air mailed directly into the vacuum cleaner’s bag.  Whoosh!

Now that’s, generally, the way I find inspiration for subject matter.  Yes, cleaning chores can stimulate the mind and provide distraction to combat the humdrum of home maintenance.  Thus, from far out in left field, I caught a long-dead memory of the bygone era when my household attempted to experience the serenity of an aquarium.

Aquarium ownership seemed so simple, once upon a time.  All those pretty fish, and tiny bubbles playing their way through the castle and treasure chest, before bursting to the water’s surface, sure did offer an atmosphere of peaceful comfort.

Okay, so we went full-boat.  (Geeze, I pulled that pun on purpose.)

We bought all the gizmos.

We bought starter fish: Guppies.  And we expected to add exotics as soon as we figured out the color scheme of tropical fish.

Whatever intelligence we thought we possessed disappeared with the purchase of the Guppies.  They simply refused to follow the guidelines governing tropical fish behavior that we had imagined.

We did everything for those little pariahs.  We cleaned their home, gave them toys, monitored their feeding schedule, and talked ever so sweetly to them.  Nothing could please our willful Guppies.  They kept breeding and escaping, until they just settled on escaping.

I swore they were growing little feet and running away.  But that speculation of evolution was proven wrong when I moved the bookcase beneath their aquarium, to do some heavy cleaning, and found their poor, stiff little bodies (sans feet).

I also discovered that dead Guppies do not send out an odor alert.  They apparently take on the properties of plastic.

We tried!  They died...time and time again.

It didn’t help to rotate a watch schedule so that we could catch them on their downward plunge to the carpet and return them to the bubbling castle’s meadow.

Oh, no!  They figured out what we were trying to do, and waited until we blinked.  That’s when they booked their flight to freedom and ultimate demise.  That’s when we gave up, and agreed that serenity was not worth the stress.

Please don’t think it insensitive of me, but a delicious feeling of serenity can be experienced with the following recipe.

TROPICAL SALAD WITH SEA SCALLOPS*

1 lb. SEA SCALLOPS (FRESH OR FROZEN)

1 15-l/4 oz. can PINEAPPLE SPEARS

2 tblsp. WHITE WINE VINEGAR

1 1/2 tsps. SUGAR

1/4 tsp. LIME PEEL (shredded/grated)

1 1/2 tsps. LIME JUICE

1 tsp. CORN STARCH

1/8 tsp. GROUND CINNAMON

1/8 tsp. GROUND CUMIN

1 cup SUGAR SNAP PEAS

1 medium HEAD BOSTON OR BIBB LETTUCE (6 to 7 ozs.)

1 medium MANGO (peeled, seeded, and sliced)

1/2 medium CARROT (finely shredded --1/4 cup)

Thaw SCALLOPS, if frozen, and set aside.

For dressing: Drain PINEAPPLE.  Reserve 1/3 cup of the PINEAPPLE JUICE. (If you get the canned Pineapple with natural juice, for God’s sake don’t throw it away.  That’s delicious juice, and I’ll bet it’s healthy too. Save it for breakfast.)

In a small saucepan, combine the reserved PINEAPPLE JUICE, WHITE WINE VINEGAR, SUGAR, LIME PEEL, LIME JUICE, CORNSTARCH, CINNAMON, and CUMIN.  Cook and stir until mixture is thickened and bubbly.  Cook and stir for a few more minutes.  Remove from heat and cool.

Cook SUGAR SNAP PEAS in a small amount of boiling water for a few minutes.  They should be crispy -- not mushy.  Drain and cool.

Rinse SCALLOPS.  Cut any large SCALLOPS in half and cook in lightly boiling water for 1 to 3 minutes or until opaque.  Drain.

Line four individual salad plates with LETTUCE LEAVES.  Arrange SCALLOPS on one side of each plate. From SCALLOPS, fan out PINEAPPLE SPEARS, MANGO SLICES, and SUGAR SNAP PEAS.  Drizzle with dressing and sprinkle with SHREDDED CARROT.

*Recipe courtesy of HEB

(This is: A 'Mother Cupboard’s Comfort Corner' Tale - c1999)