Posted in humor, life, musings

Me and the cuke

Let me disclose this first thing: I don’t like cucumbers; they don’t like me.

Two nights ago my doorbell rang – at a reasonable hour, but we hardly ever have anyone ring our doorbell or even come onto our porch. The doorbell rang a second time and after exchanging surprised looks with my husband, I answered it. I expected door-to-door Bible thumpers who wanted to convert me, or at least a couple of guys farmed out by their company (always a cable/internet provider) to drum up business on the block. These are the only people who come to our door. But, people like this ring the doorbell and stay politely behind the closed screen door.

Check out Judy T's cool blog, "My Freezer is Full - An Iowa farm girl getting back to the farm," home to this sad little cucumber
Check out Judy T’s cool blog, “My Freezer is Full – An Iowa farm girl getting back to the farm,” home to this sad little cucumber.

Imagine my shock when I opened the door and a very nice woman, holding the screen door open, shoved a huge cucumber in my face and asked, “Do you want a cucumber?” I hesitated only slightly, said “sure” and took the cucumber. She smiled and quickly left the porch.I closed the door and held the cucumber up for my husband to see. “You don’t even like cucumbers,” was all he said before returning to his book, leaving the cuke and me alone. I held the big ugly thing for several minutes, wondering what had just happened. I tend to be the kind of person who questions most everything, and so it was that I found myself staring at it, trying to wrap my head around this mystery gift.

I’ve spent odd moments since wondering if there was a message for me in that cucumber (which, by the way, left the house the next morning for a new home on the “take it” table in my husband’s office kitchen). Was it telling me I should be more accepting of gifts from others? Or, that cucumbers can be gifts, too? That the cucumber-bearer just had the wrong house? Or, maybe, never to answer my doorbell? To lighten up a bit and stop looking for ulterior motives and meaning in everything, especially cucumbers? Or, was it a sign that aliens now lurk outside my windows, under the Buddleia and lilac?

And, after all this stewing, here I sit. I still don’t know. Maybe it was just a sign that I should let my husband answer the door from now on.



I'm a writer making my way through life and offering observations as I go. Old enough to know better but that doesn't stop me.

6 thoughts on “Me and the cuke

  1. Well, that was odd! (I will plan to post about my old glider swing, once it’s been restored.) Meanwhile, if you’d like, e-mail me at with your e-mail address, and I’ll send you a pic of it in its current condition.)
    Glad to see you’ve returned to blogging!

    1. Thanks, Dianna. I’ve emailed you with my address and look forward to seeing the “now” and “then” photos. And, to hearing the story of its rehab.

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