sprite writes
broodings from the burrow

August 20, 2011


week ending
posted by soe 2:46 am

Snippets from the week:

Finding the soap we bought in France nearly three years ago just as we run out.

The car radio (which is on its last legs) does not die while we’re stuck in traffic, which allows us to sing along with Rudi’s fantastic playlist created just for our beach trip.

A fantastic fresh flounder sandwich and red birch beer for a late lunch on the beach.

Waves!

Dolphins!

My new beach towel (my first in nearly two decades) is gigantic and absorbent, and I snuggle into it.

Farewell, Ocean!

Four flavors of fudge to take home.

Dinner for two at a roadside diner costs less than $15.

A drive to the country means two weekend days in a row with Rudi.

My new baseball book, Diamond Ruby is excellent, perhaps the best I’ve read this year.

Five of us around John’s table after a delicious dinner. Nicole gives me locally produced soy milk with my hunk of cake (my grandfather would have approved of her slice sizes), and we reminisce about jobs we had as teenagers and our first cars.

Dead a/c. At least it’s mostly sticking to highs in the 80s this week.

A cupcake with Elspeth post-work. She’s back in the area, doing important work in a field she’s excited about. I’d like to be more like her when I grow up.

Crackerjack at the ballpark. Two home runs from the Nats means a notch in the win column.

Dinner at the Argonaut post-game. My root beer hails from the south, and my fish taco does not disappoint.

The garden is not as sad as I feared it might be. The chili pepper plant is covered with buds and blossoms, and there are more flowers on the squash. We celebrate by having last week’s squash in a stir-fry.

Thunderstorms mean the music at the Yards ends just after I arrive. We snag a spot under the pavilion before the rain begins (although encroaching puddles would later force a shift), and John, Rudi, Nicole, and I have a picnic with a view of lightning. Local white peach butter on baguette is the hit of the evening. We are the last ones to leave, long after darkness falls.

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