Coriel Is Pretty Wonderful

Princess Coriel and her pet kitty. (Addra also likes
to play whatever games Coriel wants to play.)

The other night at the dinner table, I was talking to Coriel about something she was doing and how Addra loves to be just like her. (I was trying to encourage her to be a good example.) This is true, though—Addra always wants to wear Coriel’s clothes, eat what she eats, read her books, play with her toys, act like a robot when Coriel is acting like a robot, etc. I told Coriel that this was because she was “pretty wonderful.”

A moment passes, and Addra (with perfect comedic timing) agrees: “You is pretty wonderful . . . for me . . . to eat.”

Heaven smells like lime.

Tragically, this is the best lime
picture that Word has. Fortunately,
the post is about the smell of lime,
not its appearance.

 

At least that’s what I think. And not that lime juice concentrate that you buy in the stores—it’s good enough for cooking and such, but it’s not heaven. No, I’m talking about that spray of scent when you first cut into a whole lime—it’s sweet and tangy and pretty much the Platonic ideal of “fresh.” It is one of those few foods that smell better than they taste, which is awesome because limes are already amazing to eat. But to smell them! To cut them into quarters and take one into your hand, squeezing it to ring out every drop you can, with the juice sticky between your fingers. Then to bring the hand to your face to smell? Heaven.