liz lovely cowgirl cookies
handmade.
vegan.
smashing. simply smashing.

and i don't say those things lightly.

it really does taste like cookie dough
and the chocolate is semi-sweet
and melts when you bite it
and, and, and

and, well, except that each cookie has about 22g fat
and 60g carbs.
whoops.
but they are vegan!
no eggs
no dairy
no trans fat
no colesterol

and SO darn tasty.

i know, i know.
i haven't blogged in a while
not for lack of ideas and thoughts.
more a lack of a computer whilst
i'm walking the pups on the mountain.

we walked in a misty rain today
it was incredible to see the rain fall below me.
sorta like the seats i had at fenway.

anyhoo.
i'm doing a whole bunch of nothing.
reading. reading. reading.
getting ready for the wedding.

...other than THAT was,

if i were left to my own devices
i would never eat a proper meal,

and as i just finished a nasty
microwave beef stew
with kettle corn mixed in,
to not only give it crunch
but to help absorb the 1259mg of salt,
topped off by a peanut butter
and chocolate chip whole grain energy bar

i'd say those fears are confirmed
(and ready for a ritual bath)

i have a freakin' ear infection.
it's like i'm 8 years old.

it hurts to swallow.
and i get these sharp pains
inside my ear.

i thought my eustachian tube was malfunctioning.

as i mowed my lawn today
i had this memory of my father
mowing the lawn when i was growing up

my father wouldn't mow on sunday

i grew up in a farming community
and the farmers wouldn't plant nor harvest
on sunday
unless absolutely necessary
and then they would apologize for
*breaking sabbath*

my father would not even work in the garden on a sunday
he'd walk through and examine it
perhaps admire the tomatoes
or pull off a tomato worm, if he happened to see it
but anything more would be working on the sabbath
and that was frowned upon

i don't know when the sabbath slipped away.
perhaps when i was a teenager
and i wasn't around as much.
or perhaps when my father retired
and everyday became a weekend

so every day i take the pups up the mountain to walk.
actually, they run.
i stumble.
which sort of averages out to a walk.

i also swat mosquitoes and other insects
and watch for poison things
(mushroom, spiders, ivy, oak, warthogs, what have you)
to leap onto my path
and carpe meim

(pause)

anyhoo.
there are some wild blackberry plants
along the path that have finally begun to ripen.
thusly fortified with long pants
and a steely resolve
i picked about 2 cups of berries
and gave them to a friend.
(with instructions to WASH THEM)

he made the most wonderful muffins
replete with blackberries
and the sand they fell in

seriously.
jolie just chewed up Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

i must say the bitch has good taste

but i'm not sure how i'll explain it to the library.
*the dog ate it* is the second oldest excuse after,
*she said she was 18*
or perhaps
*never get in a land mass war with asia*
either one.

in any event, both jolie and i found Gilead
to be tasty
though perhaps in different ways.

Yum.

the first tomato from the garden
has been plucked

and washed
and defoliated
and examined
and sniffed
and coo'd over

there are approximately 657 still out there
green
and waiting

back from canada, eh

it should be noted that canada will never
become an evil superpower
if only because of their lack of elevators
(lifts to the rest of you)

one super hotel
22 floors
8000 people
4 wee little elevators

i haven't waited in lines like that
since disneyworld

...especially promises i cannot keep.

from Cornelia Funke's Inkheart, p164.

walked home in a fabulous rainstorm
from the library.
a summer shower.
(and me without an umbrella, hat, or garbage bag raincoat)

so i put on my sunglasses
and strolled happily among the raindrops.

and it reminded me of the time
timmy and i played in the rain at my parents house

only without the floating down the driveway
(and, well... without timmy)