My Jiu-Jitsu instructor loves the oranges from our tree. Once I was holding a bag of them when I came in for class. “Hi, Ilsa,” he greeted me.

“Hi,” I replied cheerfully, as one does and then usually moves on. But he held his ground, looking at me with a big smile. Okay, weird, I thought.

Then he said, “Who are the oranges for?”

“Oh! You, of course.” I had figured that was a given, but he later told me he was excited, so he wanted to be sure. Ha!

I typically deliver oranges in an empty tortilla bag. Once I confused Mrs. Instructor when her husband brought home a box of crackers that was actually full of oranges. Another time, I finally emptied the last of my protein powder that had expired months prior (so much for bulking up), and thought the container too nice to toss. But what could I use it for?

Oranges, of course!

Then there was that whole trench coat incident. Mrs. Instructor had called me an orange dealer, so I said I should bring in oranges under a trench coat.

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