Did I tell you about how I ate a tomato sandwich, with a tomato from my own garden, on July 3rd this year? It was delicious and I was incredibly smug about it. Karma has repaid my smugness in the form of a mystery animal attacking and eating almost all of my tomatoes since then--I can never get to them before the varmint does, and I have had to cut off the bitten section of so many of them. The bites are too big for a worm and too small for a skunk. Maybe it's an escaped fighting rooster from across the street, or a guinea fowl. I'm very cross about it.
Why do zucchini plants stink? I picked my only zucchini to have survived so far for lunch the other day, and my hands smelled bad for the rest of the afternoon, even after multiple washes. This is a design flaw.
Last week as part of our reunion with John's family we went to Lagoon, a local amusement park. Because of heat, noise, crowds, and general theme park suckiness, Lagoon can sometimes feel like one of the worst places on earth you can choose to be. Somehow we've begun a tradition of going there as part of this reunion. I don't know how it started, but every year John and I and some of the other parents try to shut it down with ever less tact, and we are just making no progress. It's a mystery. But many of the kids are old enough that they can roam the park in packs of their own, and the parents don't have to be with them every waking moment while they ride endlessly on Bulgy the Whale. So it gets better every year, and our kids do like running around with their cousins. So I guess Lagoon is an okay place sometimes, with occasional highs and lows. The high was that some kind soul turned in our car keys which had fallen out of a giant hole in John's pocket. The low was when I was on the skyride and suddenly there was a splash of some kind of yellow-brown diarrhea on my shin, I can only assume/hope from a bird.
This has been a pretty negative post, full of complaints about hair and bad smells and bugs and humanity's doom, so I will leave you with a positive image: