Thursday, July 26, 2007

Choices, watermelon, gardening.

1. At the sandwich shop, they ask me to choose my piece of bread pudding from the dish.

2. The watermelon of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. He sliced it up and brought it round to our desks in green bowls. It looked beautiful and it was as cold and sweet and crisp as a watermelon should be.

3. Almost smothered by the bean vine and the tomato plant, our squash has flowered.

As needed, forgotten cake and syrup.

1. I promised myself I wouldn't moan and grumble about it -- but I do. And as if by magic, a very kind friend produces the required blaz...