mayhap | Perfectly lovely, all things considered

I always think of the taste of sunshine as being the difference between the tomatoes you buy at the grocery store, even the soi-disant "vine-ripened" ones, and the ones that you actually pick off a vine in your backyard. Right now we still just have a tiny handful of ripe cherry tomatoes, but we should have more soon.

My mom is out of town, which means that all of our meals involve the use of the grill--steak, hamburgers, teriyaki chicken. My little brother is still never home. My dad and I have been playing cribbage (I skunked him thrice and beat him again once) and drinking cappuccino and floating in the pool. Right now we're sitting up on the hill and watching the elk (who have been permittted to grow ginormous antlers for some reason) and the bunnies and the squirrels. Very peaceful.

Last night I had this dream that began with my nasal surgery, which is a natural preoccupation to begin a dream with. Of course, it makes rather less sense that me and my family and my extended family and a bunch of people whom didn't actually know got together and went on a roadtrip to that I could have said surgery. Or that in our hotel room, we started roleplaying the founders of Hogwarts (which pretty much just consisted of me as Rowena snogging some strange dark-haired boy who was Salazar, and then broke up when my brother as Godric came back because I couldn't imagine him snogging anyone and we didn't have an actual plot). And then when I spent the entire day waiting in the operating room and then got sent home because it was impossible to do the surgery without lopping my head off ... well, then, it evidently made so little sense that I actually woke up.

The wren who lives in the birdhouse on the fence has come over to sing to me now.