Small good things

It’s hobos-in-the-lychee-tree season again. This year I got ahead of things and laminated a “yes, you may pick lychee, but please don’t climb on the wall” sign, which has reduced the number of people banging on the side of the house and yelling into the ring camera.

In the evening, Gavin cut down enough lychee to fill a bucket and we spent a few hours talking, peeling, taking the pits out, and filling freezer bags. Lychee are no good to cook with, but they make great smoothies when you freeze them.

A few weeks ago, to reward myself for going to the dentist, I walked from their office to the hardware store and picked up a new hibiscus plant. I didn’t know what size or color the flowers would be (the tag just said “angel ruffles” or something) until it finally popped a blossom this week. Keep your labubus, this is the kind of blind box I like.

Also in Gardening for the Lazy and Stupid, I had the great idea to grow my own papayas since prices keep going up, and now I have about 8 little trees that I have been periodically repotting into larger and larger containers. They’re up to my waist now. Then a few days ago I actually looked at some of the papaya trees in my neighborhood and realized that each one can grow taller than the house. Oh no. I mean, I’ve grown up with these trees, I knew they were tall, but I never actually thought about that in terms of yard space and how long my arms would have to be to pick the fruit. Well, that is a problem for future me. Maybe they’ll stay short and manageable if I keep them in container prisons instead of planting them in the ground.

This weekend was the annual read-aloud event at Ward Center, where the Friends of the Library invite local authors and illustrators to read for an audience, and they have started booking me for the middle of the day as a filler because a librarian is good for quacking and singing with toddlers for half an hour when one of the other readers finishes way too early. A 15 minute slot seems short, but it actually only takes about 2 minutes to read the average picture book, then you’re in trouble for the next 13 minutes and I get to be a big damn hero. After the reading, we walked over to the fancy chocolate shop and the kids picked out mini truffles. It was a nice event.

For family dinner, I tried making chantilly cake. My mother looked at it and said, “Is that chicken gravy?” Damn. I’ll have to try a different recipe. It tasted okay, anyway.

On Saturday, Gavin took Zenny to a Magic: the Gathering game night, and they had a lot of fun playing with an experienced elder nerd and a young stoned surfer who found a box of Magic cards in a dumpster. Leif and I stayed at home, sacked out on the couch watching Freaky Tales on Netflix and eating fudge pops. Having older kids is the best.

Fitness cult update: I am ripped like a gym bro. 

“Oh yeah. That’s a muscle. Sure.”

Well, anything worth doing is worth doing badly, that’s my motto. Something is better than nothing. 

I have ordered my paints and a few new brushes, getting ready for the workshop in a couple weeks. One of my long-time online mom friends is meeting me at Moulton Falls that Friday (I know better than to hike alone with my survival skill set) and it looks really beautiful. Painting, cows, Washington apples, Trader Joe’s, and a hike to a waterfall. Lets go.