Prickly Pear

Yesterday, I saw a plastic grocery bag with one avocado-sized fruit in it on the little table in the break room at work. On closer inspection, it had little areas with spines. I was pretty sure it was a Prickly Pear. I'd never had one before, and I was daring enough to try it. (Hey, someone basically said "trust me; take this" by putting it on that table.)

I figured you were supposed to cut off the outer skin, like a pineapple, so I did that. I now know that it would've been wiser for me to hold the thing with a paper towel while cutting the outer skin off with the knife, for I ended up with really tiny barbs in my fingers. They wouldn't pull out, so the best I could do was snip them flush with my skin with a fingernail clipper so that at least they wouldn't snag on whatever my fingers brushed against.

The fruit was quite tasty. I'm glad I tried it.

Later, I felt a little discomfort on the roof of my mouth. I thought maybe I'd burned the roof of my mouth with coffee or something. Eventually, my tongue was able to isolate one little barb up there. Dang. It's not like I can get fingernail clippers up in there. Nor can I figure out how to get two mirrors at the right angles so I can attempt a self-tweeze. And I wouldn't ask a coworker to try it. And I wouldn't pay a doctor to try anything. I'd just have to let it heal in its own time or flush itself out, which it did by evening.

Prickly Pear. Good name. Won't do that again.