So, a couple of things.
I know I said, “we’ll catch up in ten days or so”.
That was June 8th.
It’s June 20th.
So, I guess I was serious about the “or so” part.
Between then and now, there have been six days of beach vacation, a trip to the seamstress, a bridal coffee, finishing this book and this book, and starting this book, shopping for jewelry to go with this dress,Father’s Day, a beautiful beach wedding, checkups with doctors, immunizations that caused a spiking fever, sleepovers, deep cleaning, bazillions of loads of laundry, chocolate chip cookies, trips to the bookstore for summer reading materials, graduations, swimsuit shopping, trips to the library, the pool, the evolution of a homebody Bolognese, a fallen oat and almond blueberry bundt cake, haircuts, pants hemming, a trip to the movies for Now You See Me, and, somewhere in there, a perfect lazy day of all-day PJ’s, Xbox, movies, good books, and junk food.
This week we’re finding our summer M.O.
We’re figuring out what works, settling in on camp dates, kicking back.
The kids are requesting favorites from the kitchen (like chocolate cake, snickerdoodles, and crack bark – none of which have come to fruition yet), and Mom is fiddling with new-ish foods again. . . .
Like two nights ago for instance.
I made another weird salad.
This isn’t my first rodeo with weird salad.
I knew this one was over before it even started really.
Our meal ended with all males in the household insisting that I pledge to Never Ever ruin watermelon in such a way in their presence ever again, until the rest of time.
I liked it.
Pretty much. But my husband had a good point.
The watermelon salad we had last night had nine ingredients.
He said, maybe it would be good minus the watermelon. Or the watermelon would be good minus about five of the other ingredients.
This is the man who just plain doesn’t like sweet fruit in his savory salads.
But it got me thinking, anyway.
I stood at the kitchen counter tasting and re-tasting the salad.
The bites I liked the most could be narrowed down to four major players, with a sprinkling of a couple more.
Which, come to think of it, reminds me of my grandpa.
For years, he has been telling us that once we taste watermelon with salt, we’ll never go back to regular old watermelon again.
We wrinkled our noses and chuckled politely, all the while thinking that this was an invention of Grandpa’s that probably lined up right along with his iceberg lettuce, mayo, and fruit cocktail salad in the, “Please Don’t Ever Make Me Eat That” category.
But Grandpa, I have to admit it.
You’re right. I shall now eat crow. . . and briny summer fruit.
Salty watermelon is darn good.
It’s making me rethink the legitimacy of that iceberg/mayo/fruit cocktail concoction.
But I’ll give you the watermelon thing – it’s verifiably good.