could I be any more tired?

My feet are tired. It’s that run yesterday. My ego got in the way, as it frequently does (“me! me! me!”) and it made me run for seven minutes on, one minute off, instead of my recent six on, one off. Which is probably a dopey thing to do on a long run. If you’re going to mess around with things like that, save it for the short runs. It’s nothing that ibuprofen and the tender ministrations of the Chief of Foot Rubs can’t fix. I hope.

Charlie’s on my lap. I think he needs glasses, ‘cause he keeps wanting to get closer to the screen to read what I’m writing. We had a rough morning, Charlie and I.

First, there was the tick. No worries, I used my magic tick key. This is the coolest thing – get one, if you deal with ticks.

Mine’s purple.

But then there was The Vet. Yes, it’s that time of the year. This was a new vet. The closest possible vet, to this house. And yet not only did Charlie poop in the carrier, he barfed as well. A new accomplishment. He takes after his mom, Charlie does. The only person I know who feels motion sickness while standing on a street corner watching cars go by. On the bright side, providing a stool sample was no problem.

But I digress.

I’m really hear to today to show you pictures of the BABY CHERRY TOMATOES!

At least a couple on this plant…

And two on this one.

I’m hoping the driveway get regraded soon. Let’s document its condition in the wake of recent rains:

This is the shared drive. That puddle on the right in the distance has it in for the trusty Honda. There are quite a few craters of comparable depth.

See the channel on the left side of our individual driveway?

…and the channel forming at the base of the hill?

This part of the driveway is not without its charms. Up this week we have spiderwort…

…and the (tragically) invasive (but so sweet-smelling!) wild roses.

Finally, I can confirm that when you’re sitting on the deck, minding your own business, the hummingbird feeder is busy.

Whereas, when you’re sitting on the deck, minding your business, with a camera in your hand, hummingbirds are nowhere to be found. How do they know?