happy news

I sense that I’ve sounded overly grumpy over the last few entries. Even if untrue, and it is untrue, sometimes railing entries become overbearing.

Remember the waffling discussion? Here’s what it looks like on Sunday morning at the North Park B&B. The first picture signals the imminent beginning; the second is what happens when someone gets hold of the fixin’s.



Here's one of the sunflowers that haa exploded from mere seeds scattered about the garden. I saw a small child climbing the stalks to the clouds.



L. is off in, literally IN, the Grand Canyon this week with her grandmother; a multi-generational vacation of hiking and rafting. She’ll be beat by the time she gets back to Omaha for school.

The comrades from across the hall popped in for dinner last night. Corey has finished his legal, sort of legal, legal deck at his friend’s house after working on it all weekend. My contribution to a project like that would be talking smack and carrying stuff around. Anyway, I’d made a big deep dish white pizza (béchamel sauce, artichoke hearts, red onions, fresh sage, garlic, fresh mozzarella, s&p, and some olive oil) for the commune. As we all sat down I decided that I wasn’t putting forth any more effort than cutting the huge rectangular beast into anything but four large quarter-pan servings: every man and woman for themselves, just hold out your plate. From my peripheral hearing comes this nugget, “that’s too big a piece baby, I can’t eat that much”. Sillier words have never been spoken. I don’t recall any bits left on any plate – strange, isn’t it?

As if “baby” will get you off.

T