on the relative merits of clif bars vs power bars

Yesterday, I ran 4.25 miles, and then mowed the lawn out at my dad’s for two and a half hours. With a push mower. Naturally, this was followed by the inhalation of a cheeseburger and fries. Then, exhausted, and let’s face it, sticky, we went kayaking.
My dinner consisted of two pints of strawberries, half a pound of cherries, a white peach, and a Clif bar. Kevin had a quarter of a watermelon, some deli turkey, and a Power Bar. My Clif Bar looked like desiccated bear poop, and if I’d remembered to take a picture, I could prove this to you, as there was, in fact, desiccated bear poop in the driveway. Kevin’s Power Bar looked like congealed cat vomit.
We went to bed at 7:39 pm. No kidding.
Today I lounged around in celebration of the fact that I only have one week of pure freedom before this thing called “paid employment” starts up for me. That’s right, sports fans, I got a job. But don’t worry, I’ll still find the time to “entertain” you with pictures of flowers’ naughty bits and whatnot.
Speaking of which, the Queen Anne’s Lace seeds start off green, but apparently turn brown.

Like…

…so.
The Lobelia inflata, aka Indian Tobacco, is going to seed, and the seeds are surprising little fatties, considering the tininess of the flowers that produce them.
I hardly left the house today. Oh, so not true, I ran errands, I learned that I need not only all new snow tires, but all new regular tires as well (yay, job! it will help pay for the tires that I need in order to drive to … my job!), but as far as visiting with the natural world, the lobelia is about as wild and crazy as I got.
Other people were more productive.

One down, two to go.