This morning when I got up Robert was eating breakfast. Toast, with small slices of something white on top. He came and sat next to me while he ate and it was immediately apparent what the white slices were: raw garlic. I pointed out that he was going to be smelling very pungent for a while and he mumbled something about wanting garlic bread.
"But you don't make garlic bread with big slices of garlic!", I pointed out. "If you want garlic toast you rub the clove on the bread". (That's what my Jewish grandmother did. And great-grandmother. And mother. So I'm sticking to it! Even if I am a little surprised, in retrospect that my mom would feed us (and we would eat) rye toast with garlic rubbed on it for breakfast.)
"It wasn't that good", Robert admitted. "The garlic was really sharp".
"So why did you eat it?? After a bite of that I would've just brushed the garlic off". Sometimes I'm so reasonable it's amazing.
Robert looked a little shifty eyed. You that look people get when they can't answer a perfectly logical question? Yeah. "Well, um, it's good for my prostate?", he offered. "You wouldn't want me to get prostate cancer would you? You know I never go to the doctor..."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because going to the doctor prevents prostate cancer. You know, you still didn't need to eat all that sharp raw garlic".
Robert ate a candy cane. Then he smelled like peppermint. And garlic.