Curate Lemon Honey Apricot

Even if I am red-cheeked, wild-eyed, dripping in sweat, and swaying from exhaustion, I still like greeting everybody who I pass on the sidewalk when I’m jogging in the morning. If you have headphones on and you’re running, chances are I’ll attempt to high-five you (I’ve occasionally had this responded to with a quick rabbit hop away from me as if I’m going to smack you instead.) If you’re ambling towards me, you’ll get a semi-slurred, winded “mornin.'” If you’re washing your car at 5 a.m., which I found to be a most peculiar task to jog past at that hour of the day, (but I can understand it based on the blanket of pollen that’s descended on every outdoor object), you’ll still get a wave from me, and man, wouldn’t it have been nice if you’d given me a light misting from your water hose?

I don’t expect everybody to be a peachy-peach early in the morning, but I’ll take eye contact or a smile, something to indicate that you acknowledge that we’re both outdoors, both of the human race, both possibly exercising and stewing in a sweaty funk. But a few mornings ago, I passed a rotten peach who scratched her cheek and turned her head near-Exorcist style as far away from meeting my eye or responding to my greeting as she could. This didn’t deter me from being even more cheerful when I passed her again 20 minutes later, and this time she feigned adjusting her brastraps, with her eyes downcast during my approach.

That bad peach had a stoney pit in her heart, but oh wait, I may have my stone fruits jumbled. Peach and apricot, the same thing? Or a nectarine or a plumquat? I don’t want to be biased since I just really don’t like apricot, but I really, really don’t like apricot. I still wanted to try Curate Apricot Lemon since their packaging is so happy, but I just couldn’t like it. The tartness of lemon doesn’t belong in bars (excluding Quest’s Lemon Chifon Pie, with Luna’s Lemon Zest a close second) and the apricot, well, it’s that sweet and squishy sensation that reminds me of Halloweens when one house inevitably gave out fruit strips, better suited for re-upholstering leather carseats. I couldn’t even bring myself to give a taste of Curate Lemon Apricot to Louise. But when her eyes meet mine and she smiles, even if I am sweaty, or running past her to get my phone or towards her to stop her from knocking over another plant, I’ll always smile back, and maybe even drawl a Southern peach’s howdy hon too. Now if she’d show a little more enthusiasm about helping me wash my car … 1/5

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