fruity pebbles

This post has nothing to do with breakfast cereal. I needed a title for the post, and that’s what came out of the oracle’s mouth.

So. Today dawned gorgeous, As Usual. And As Usual, my day began at 5:20 am, when the sound of Charlie’s body slamming the bedroom door finally dragged me up from dreams. We have this whole routine: he body slams. I ignore. He body slams. I ignore. Kevin sleeps through all this. And eventually, I give in.

Now, what he wants is to be fed, of course. But I scoop him up and toss gently deposit him out on the deck. And then I go back to bed.

AREN’T I MEAN? If Charlie had opposable thumbs, this is what would happen…

In other news.

I’m three runs away from the half marathon. Today’s run was a
s-l-o-w half hour – about a 10:40 pace. I had to make myself slow down, because my recent runs have been getting fast – Tuesday’s was at a blistering (for me, anyway) 8:42 pace – and my hamstrings have been bitching about it. The last thing I need now is to injure myself. This Sunday, I have the longest run yet – 14 miles, It will take me nearly three hours. After that, it’s a couple of half-hour runs and then, showtime.

Another ten pounds of blueberries found their way into our freezer today. I didn’t have the orchard to myself this afternoon…a few rows away, a mother pleaded with her children: “Olivia! Help Mommy pick blueberries!”  A few minutes later: “Where’s your sister???” …followed by “DON’T EAT THOSE! PICK YOUR OWN!” and topped off by my personal favorite, “Olivia, put your pants back on!”

This reminds me of a meal, long ago and far away, with a college boyfriend and his family. He was the oldest of six, and the youngest, coincidentally also named Sarah, was a toddler. Sarah knew about silverware, but was having none of it. Wanting an unmediated experience with her food, she buried her face in her plate. “Sarah…use your fingers…”

***

Our raspberries aren’t ripe yet. But these, from the orchard, were…

And out on the lawn, the watermelon pod-people are getting huge, and making more babies every day.

I swear, they are up to no good.