This morning my beloved took the lads to a local farm that specializes in cultivating heirloom tomatoes and selling the seeds to hobbyists as well as Seed Savers Exchange. They chose several varieties of tomatoes to plant in our new veggie garden. On the way, they stopped at a drugstore for some supplies to enrich the soil (calcium carbonate tablets AKA antacids, aspirin, and Epsom salt) along with the compost they bought at the garden center on the way home.
After some quality time digging in the dirt, the elder lad came in and wanted to bake cookies* with me. As he was managing the mixer, he said "Mom, I saw some pretty nail polish for you -- green, and all kinds of colors."
"Oh?" Said I. "Green?"
"Yes, and pink, and purple... all kinds of colors."
"You think I should paint my nails?" I asked. (I couldn't agree more.)
"Yes."
I'll get right on that...
*I use butter instead of margarine, because I'm a purist that way, and whole eggs instead of whites. I was ever so happy to have these cookies among the things I'd brought to the hospital with me when our lass was born, as they hit the spot in the wee hours of the morning when I was pacing with, rocking, and snuggling her -- and practicing using such descriptors as "she" and "her" in reference to a child of mine.
chocolate granola
11 years ago
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