When I was little, my mother fed me canned fruit cocktail to keep me, a-hem, regular.
The overarching detail of that memory is the one or two beautiful halves of bright maraschino cherries hidden in the melange.
I yearned for those pretty cherries and would beg for them, and bless her heart, she would let me have them, and anyone else who wanted the fruit got stuck with the bald grapes and grainy pears.
I did like to drink the "juice" in my bowl afterward, probably all sugar water.
Anyway, the other day I was enjoying a newly re-discovered joy: cottage cheese with pineapple. Yum.
I was just mow-mowing away when it hit me, "Wouldn't this be good with cherries?"
A quick trip to the fridge proved fruitful, pardonnez ze pun.
So I added a couple of cherries and got so happy.
I'm a simple girl.
Then I had another thought: "I want more cherries."
"No," I told myself. "Get control of yourself, woman. You only get two cherries, and you know it."
But then I back-talked myself, "Who made that rule? Mortimer Dole?"
And so ... I ate a lot of cherries.
And I loved it.
So here is reason 27 of "Why It's Good to Be a Grown Up": You get all the cherries you want.