Sometimes life scoops you a heaping dish of pure heaven (Ben & Jerry’s "Half Baked").  Other times, it dishes you a heaping scoop of spinach and salamander gizzards. (Questions for further study:  Do salamanders have gizzards?  What are gizzards anyway?  Did Dr. Seuss invent them?)   Or, to cite a better-known phrase, sometimes life tosses you a couple of lemons.  In such a case, how should you respond?  Say it with me, children:  “When life hands you lemons. . .shove the lemons back in Life’s face and demand to know who the heck authorized all this gizzard scooping and lemon tossing!”  (Must’ve been Dr. Seuss.)

But I kid, kids.  The actual saying--which, of course, was penned by adults-- encourages Pollyanna-like optimism rather than blatant defiance.  Go figure.   But again, I kid!  The lemon/lemonade adage truly does carry an important message for the youngsters of today, blah, blah, blah, blah. 

You see, children, "lemons" are purely symbolic.  No one expects Life to throw actual fruit.  Life might toss a few false lemons, for example, or rotten tomatoes--at which point, grown-ups would expect you to cry, “Oh goody!  I think I’ll make myself a rotten vegetable puree” (as though you're even old enough to use a blender!).  And if Life decided to hurl several bowling balls and vats of water in your general direction, you would have to dance for joy despite your wet hair and crushed limbs. 

Note:  The word “lemons” could also be replaced by the word “berries,” which would cause the proverb to read:  “When life hands you berries; make berry-cades.”  This, of course, has exactly 0% relevance, since you and I are not among the singing/dancing ranks of the lower class during the French Revolution ("Do you hear the people sing; singing the song of angry men?"). I am currently questioning my own sanity and wondering why I wrote this paragraph in the first place.

My point?   Hmm.   If I had a point, I think it would be one of the following (take your pick):  A. If you are ever trapped inside a shoe store which is about to plummet off a large precipice, thank your lucky stars that the store carries your favorite brand of sandal.  B.  The next time you fall into the mouth of a spewing volcano, remind yourself that only one lucky person in every trillion experiences such a thing.  C.  If your computer refuses to bring up your e-mail account, pat it lovingly on the mouse and thank it for not exploding in your face as computers are wont to do.  (PHKOWBAM!  There goes mine!)

Upon reflection--and I had plenty of time to reflect as I purchased a whole new computer and completely rebuilt my hard drive--I have realized that “C” was the actual point of this whole lemonade lead-in.  Last week, I was sitting in the ASU music library, using one of the school computers.  These computers are designated for “library-related research ONLY,” so, of course, I was checking my e-mail.  A pleasant-looking male ("Don't judge a book by its cover!") took his place at the computer adjacent to mine and attempted to log into his hotmail account.  Unfortunately, the hotmail server was “busy” at the moment (partially my fault--wa, ha, HA!), which was devastating news for this mentally unstable youth.  He must have been mentally unstable; I can think of no other explanation for the sudden and violent string of expletives which flowed like honey-gone-rancid from his lips. 

When people claim that "actions speak louder than words," I don't think they're taking swear words into account.  To hear Expletive Man curse, one would suppose that Life had dished him a heaping scoop of spinach and salamander gizzards instead of handing him one very small lemon.  Two seconds later, he tried logging in again and was allowed access.

So please explain to me how this situation merited such a violent outburst.  Would Expletive Man’s favorite shoe store have plummeted off a large precipice unless he contacted the store manager immediately by e-mail?  I doubt it.  He didn’t look like the sort of guy who would give a bleep about shoes (Expletive Man, that is, not the hypothetical store manager who would probably be quite passionate about footwear).  Well then.  Would EM's best friend have tumbled into the mouth of a flaming volcano unless EM started a “Save Vince the Volcano-Hiker!” chain message? Perhaps. 

Or maybe, being female, I can just attribute all that anger to testosterone. Whenever hotmail gives me the “too busy” screen, I shrug and think, “Oh well!  I’ll try again later.”  Granted, the only shoe store I visit is Payless (which doesn't tend to build on high cliffs--that being bad for business and all), and I don’t have any volcano-climbing friends named Vince, but still.

In light of my recent experience, I would like to propose a few revisions to the old, well-loved lemonade adage.  May I?   “When hotmail gives you lemons, make electronic lemonade by keeping your expletives to yourself!”  The world will be a better place, I'm sure.