Mangoes & Rash Behavior

Both Dr. John and OC frowned on the idea of me going outside and tossing rocks at the mangoes with the children. I explained to OC that our lease forbids climbing trees, but it doesn’t say anything about tossing rocks. OC said, “That’s probably because throwing rocks is already against the law!” Now I need to check a copy of the Hawaii penal code before I decide whether or not to join the rock throwing children. (Such decisions were much easier when I was a kid.)

Well, the good news is, enough Mangoes already littered the ground that there were plenty for me to gather up, bring into the house and feast upon. Mangoes are very pulpy — at least the kind that grow in our yard are — and they are very juicy. I eat mango while standing over the sink. What’s a little stickiness when one is munching on sweet, yummy mango?

Those of you who have been around awhile might recognize a quote from OC written on my blog about a year ago, as we were preparing to move to Hawaii.

No, I haven’t eaten one. I ain’t even touchin‘ ’em. The mango tree belongs to the poison ivy family, for crying out loud. Yes it does. For me to eat a mango, would really be a rash act.

I quite happily told OC that, members of the Poison Ivy League or not, mangoes didn’t bother me. That turned out to be a rash proclamation. It seems that an occasional mango is fine, but indulging in them everyday is not.

I’d gathered an armful of mangoes and brought them into the house, where I proceeded to eat them, one or two at a time every day for three days. The evening of the third day I said to OC, my face really hurts and it’s all sore and chapped feeling. OC looked at me and said, “You have a rash around your mouth.”

I immediately looked down at my plate in concern. (We were eating out when the conversation occurred.) I said, “There’s nothing on my plate I haven’t eaten before.” He said, “I noticed the rash when you picked me up from the boat.”

I said, “You know, my arms really itch, too.” I showed him the angry red stripes (for want of a better word) on my forearms. OC looked at them, turning my arms this way and that and then queried. “Have you been eating mangoes?”

“Well, yes,” I said. “But –“

“Those look like juice streaks,” he said, pointing at my arms. “You might want to lay off on the mangoes for awhile.”

Yeah. A looooong while.