Writer's Cramp: Use the words Turnip, Garden, Clever, and Confusion in story or poem
Just the thought of rutabagas makes me cringe. The long ago memory of my mother admonishing me “Don’t get up from that table ‘til you eat your rutabagas” ranks highly among the many insufferable happenings I endured as a child. Yet, to its credit this odd looking bitter tasting enigma of the vegetable world has provided me ample brain fodder as I’ve pondered, what’s the difference between a rutabaga and a turnip?
A clever internet search – more specifically of a blog entitled, “Weird Vegetables”—assured me that my confusion surrounding these purplish roots is shared by the masses, not just little ole’ rutabaga-hating me. However, I am one of the elite [read: nerdy] few who’ve been diligent enough to “turnip” the answer. My clever investigation confirmed my suspicions that not only are these bulbous veggies extremely similar, but they are in fact cousins. The rutabaga is the result of a marriage between a turnip and a cabbage. Now, I like turnips and I like cabbage, however, like chiuauas and rottweilers, the two should never twine. What you get, in my opinion, is something so awful tasting that running away from home seemed a better option than another mouthful.
The trauma and distress of staring at a plate of lukewarm diced rutabagas, trying not to puke, is far behind me. I’m an adult now. As such, I leave lights on in rooms that I’m not in. My refrigerator door stands open way longer than it should. Just the other day I ran to answer the door with scissors in my hand. Sometimes I even sit real close to my television set knowing it could make me go blind. And as an adult, this spring I plan on starting my very first garden. And you know what? I will NOT be planting (or eating) any rutabagas, and nobody can make me!