Drowning in mangoes has turned into quite the daily chore.  In order to deal with the mountains of fresh fruit, I have devised a system that, if I say so myself, is rather ingenious.  Each afternoon, I call Charlie and Lola to accompany me on a “Mango Hunt”.  We each carry a plastic bag, and often enlist the help of my husband to man the mango picker stick or shake the trees.  We stand off to the side so as not to be beaned in the head by flying mangoes, and rush to pick up the mangoes that have made their way down before another raining of goodness.  

I wash all the mangoes off to rinse off any dirt from the falling, dry them off and sit down to start the long process of slicing and dicing.  I lay each of the mango pieces in a single layer on a cutting board sheet, layering each sheet on top of the other on a cookie sheet.  I then put the cookie sheet of layered mango pieces in the freezer for a few hours, or overnight, and then scrape them loose with a spatula in order to store them in the large freezer bags.  It’s quite the process, but helpful in keeping the mango pieces from freezing into one, useless clump. 

Yesterday, I was working my way through this process.  Lola loves to help at any stage, whether it is drying the rinsed mangoes, placing the fresh mango pieces in rows, or helping put the frozen bits into the bags.  As I was struggling to loosen some stubborn pieces from a middle layer, I lifted the flexible cutting sheet and swiftly snapped it in half.  The shock of it made me gasp.

Husband:  What happened?

White Girl:  I snapped the sheet in half.  I’m so angry.

Lola: At yourself.