updates you've all been waiting for

Oh, hush. Just pretend you listen to anything I say. I won't know the difference.

First of all, and extremely exciting (if you are me): my cherry tomato plants have little tiny green tomatoes on them, waiting to turn yellow! Have we found a species of vegetation Andrea cannot kill? Perhaps! I am psyched. It also occurs to me that I can use them to torture and/or behaviorally modify (pick which term you like) my son when they ripen. D loves garden cherry tomatoes perhaps as much as he likes any food. Very much a favorite. Well, since he's still fairly paranoid about going out into the yard or on the deck, I figure I can tell him he can have all the tomatoes off my plants that he wants, but he's gotta go out and pick them himself. I don't think it'll work--he's pretty good at passing up things he would otherwise really like to have or do in order to avoid the things that make him super anxious--but I'ma give it a shot. Oh, and in other gardening news, I planted some basil like last year, this time from seeds from Burpee instead of, like, Target, and it took it literally over six weeks to sprout. Germinate. Whatever you call it. That seems extreme. And some of the other seeds from Burpee didn't sprout at all. I call bullshit. I'm sticking to Target next year. On the other hand, Burpee did sell me tomato plants I haven't been able to kill, so there is that. And the basil is looking nice presently even if it was slow. And I do like getting their catalogue in the mail every January because it gives me hope. They do have some positives.

Secondly, my resolve to have nothing to do with the Red Sox till my wrath towards them has abated has been thwarted. Both the men in my house, separately, informed me immediately upon my arising "Pedroia got three home runs!!!***" I mean, I don't think I even got a good morning from either of them first. And then I had to listen to how fucking Papelbon blew another save--though it didn't matter because of Pedroia. So, my point is, I cannot boycott them even if I try. Nobody will shut up about the baseball in my house. Sigh.

And lastly, I broke down, gave in, caved. I put the A/C on last night. I couldn't take one more night of trying to fall asleep in 98% humidity. On the downside, there goes spending my electric bill money on pedicures and beer. On the upside, I weighed myself this morning and I was 3 pounds less than the last time I weighed myself on that scale. I think when it's really hot and humid in my house, my body retains water.

xoxo

*** Except my dad calls him "Detroia", like Detroit. This is an improvement over what he used to call him. I think he spent his entire rookie year butchering his name in ways that frankly were unfathomable even for a deaf man, so we don't even try to correct "Detroia" anymore. Close enough.