Saturday, May 21, 2016

Running and Food and Illness and Gardening. Oh, my?

It's that time of year again, where early Saturday mornings are dedicated to a long run, prepping for some fall race or other.  It's not yet hot or humid enough to be a slog and I'm not yet burnt out or fighting injury as I surely will be late in the summer.  In short, because I gave up any aspirations of a spring distance race, I'm in a sweet spot of my running season.
Good morning, forest preserve entrance.  I wish I could wake up looking that good.

But come, let us speak of more important matters.  Like cheese.
My mom gives first-aid kits and fire extinguishers as wedding gifts.  I give box graters.


Much of our week was spent in this fashion, because apparently that's just what we do now:
Thankfully we somehow managed to keep Atticus from infecting the rest of the family, so he was the only one with the fever and vomiting and extreme lethargy.  Oh, and congestion, leading me to look around one morning and say, "What is that noise?" thinking it was some kind of machinery outdoors.  I used my Indian tracking skills to chase down its source.
Then I took a video and laughed at my sick kid who, for four straight days, kept dropping off to sleep within seconds anytime he went horizontal, because I am a compassionate, nurturing, decorous mother.  Don't forget to turn the volume up on that video.

Other ways I am a delight to live with:
I eat the edges of any brownie pan, because the edges are the best part:  Chewy in the middle, with a nice, crunchy crust on the edge.  Perfection.  I've thought about getting one of these
but first of all, those pans are expensive, and more importantly, I would no longer be able to blithely say, "I left you a big piece of brownie," to Derek, knowing full well it's only the inferior middle of the dessert.  There would be no pieces left to offer Derek with a pan like that.  I do not need a dessert enabler like that in our house, however brilliant a concept it may be.

I spent more time in the garden, and emerged with its usual offerings.
Clockwise from the upper left, that's a piece of glass, a rubber tube with very sharp pokey wires inside, a dirty piece of porcelain, a nail, a screw, and a hunk of metal there in the center.  All marvelous things to find whilst digging around in the soil with your bare hands.  I've heard that in some biker gangs you get a tough nickname; what with all the metal and glass I've encountered, I feel like I've earned the right to the same with my dangerous forays under the surface of our yard.  It's, like, extreme gardening.  What kind of nicknames would an extreme gardening club/gang even have, though?  "Thornbush"?  "Poison sumac"?  "Spade"?  



Tell me now:  Are you a pre-packaged shredded cheese sort, or dyed-in-the-wool grater?  How do you feel about the geography of a brownie?  What would your gardening nickname be?


4 comments:

  1. I don't understand dessert edge people. The middle is superior.

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    1. I think this means we're dessert soul mates.

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  2. Atticus, poor child. I hope he is feeling better.

    I use the pre-packaged shredded cheese all the time. I know, I am a heathen. On brownies, my thought is that as long as somebody has made brownies, any part of them is okay.

    My gardening nickname is LaZBones or maybe Weedface. My gardens are full of weeds right now. My green onions have gone to flower. (Next time, I will plan smaller amounts of seeds each month, rather than plant all the seeds all at once.) But the lilac bush is in bloom and smells heavenly, and my balloon flower plants are sprouting in new places and the rabbits haven't eaten them yet.

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    1. Your gardening nicknames made me lol. Somehow my lettuce always ends up going to flower, but I just pretend I did it on purpose so that it can self-seed. Yeah, that's it.

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