Alone Grapefruit Time

Juice running down my elbows, I nibble the top edge of my grapefruit slice to detach the film which surrounds the pure pink flesh. As I deposit the remains into the growing pile of skin and pulp, observers take the opportunity to make believe they are watching a monkey dissect his food. These un-invited fellow picnickers who inevitably invade my “Alone Grapefruit Time,” participate in my pre-dinner tradition which I observe each night spent at the National Beagle Club. After cleaning the juice from my forearms on the lawn, I dress for dinner and re-enter the realm of table manners.