Guacamole

There we were, sitting at lunch, Anne with her taco salad and I with a large plate of nachos.

"Mmmmm..." I moaned as I bit my first nacho, covered in guacamole. "I looove guacamole."

"Me too," agreed Anne.

I wondered aloud, "What did people ever do before they discovered...." I stopped myself midsentence. That was wrong. It was not at all what I wanted to say. I adjusted my comment.

"Like the English" I posed. "Think of medieval times. They could not grow avacados to make guacamole! What did they ever do?"

"Hmm," said Anne. "Well then, I guess they didn't miss it." [What a 'smart alec!' She must get that quality from her father.]

Not to be daunted, I countered, "They could have! What about Launcelot? Maybe he tasted guacamole on one of his quests. Huh? Then what would he do? Avacados don't grow in England. He would have to ride his horse for days, maybe even weeks, to get to Italy, or Greece, or wherever avacados grow, every time he wanted to get guacamole!"

"Even worse," said Anne. "England is an island."

"That's right!" (I can't believe I forgot that major fact. See how caught up I can get?) "He would have to put his horse on a boat and sail across the Channel, then ride for days and weeks! Poor guy."

"Actually..." Anne seemed to have entered her pensive mode. "I think avacados might grow in Spain... but... the Pyrenees mountains are between Spain and France. In fact, that is why the Ottoman Empire did not extend farther than it did: The Pyranees mountains were in the way."

"Yep. Poor Launcelot. I can see him now -- climbing over the mountains, hand over fist, pulling his horse up behind him, just to get some guacamole."