Bobbi, your raspberry-picking attire sounds just as wildly eccentric as I
hope to become once I am safely retired and accountable to no-one for what I choose to wear. It’s not quite the same, but it reminded me quite vividly of an incident a few years back – well, maybe four, I guess. We were living in that big Victorian manse that we sold after DH retired, and had a next door neighbor with the greenest thumb of anyone I’ve ever met. She was generous, too, but mostly with things like zucchini and summer squashes, which I love when they’re small and tender, but don’t much care for once they’ve grown big and tough – which is when she would usually offer them to us. What she rarely offered, though, were her big, juicy red tomatoes. I LOVE fresh tomatoes. I have very fond memories of my FATHER’S big, juicy beefsteak tomatoes, a thick slice of which would make a whole sandwich. Buttered toast, a thick slice of fresh picked tomato, a little salt & pepper…oh, MY. ANYWAY, this neighbor of ours went on vacation for two weeks at the beginning of August every year, during which time her garden lay unattended for the most part. Her father, who lived in the house on the other side of this neighbor, would periodically go in and pick whatever was ripe, and distribute the bounty who-knows-where. ANYWAY, one night when I had simply drooled over those tomatoes growing next door unattended long ENOUGH, I decided to help myself to a few. DH says, “You can’t do that! You can’t just go over into their yard and help yourself! That’s stealing!” Oh, YEAH? Watch me!!! So, I put on this long black velour bathrobe of DH’s (it was after dark) – with a hood, yet – and pulled the hood up to cover my face. Wore some gardening gloves, and hiking boots. DH watched at the window in amused disgust until I got right in the middle of the tomatoes and then he started hollering, “HEY! Who’s that in the garden? Hey! Somebody’s robbing the garden! Hey, Somebody call the cops!” I swear I wanted to kill this fool!

He thought
he was hilarious, don’t you know? I grabbed about six tomatoes, though, and stuffed them into the canvas shopping bag that I’d carried for precisely that purpose. Then I ran like the devil back into the house, brandishing the bag at DH and threatening to bash him over the head with it. (Of course I wouldn’t have – that would’ve smashed my tomatoes!!!) There were no unpleasant consequences, though; after all, I ate the evidence! Oh, and Bobbi? I think that the zebra print scarf was simply the
perfect finishing touch! Ultra chic, to be sure! ONE question – what about the dangly earrings? That outfit of yours was just CRYING for a pair of dangly earrings!!!
As for annual mammograms and the like – well, I had one a couple of years ago, and the one I had right before that was just after my son was born. I guess he was a year old or so. He just turned 29, of course. I TRY to get checked as often as I should, but I really dislike the whole process and put it off for as long as I possibly can. I know I’m due again. I’ll try to work up the energy to go, now that you’ve mentioned it.
Freda, oh, indeed. Grandkiddos really keep you moving. I swear I get more exercise jumping up and down and screaming at one of DGD’s soccer games than I’d EVER get in a supervised work out.
Ah,
Rosey, we all give in to our appetites once in awhile. Getting right back on track is what counts. I'd laugh about your mammogram description, but I felt the pain just reading it. Sheesh!
Mary, I certainly hope your DH has a speedy recovery from whatever was wrong. It sounds like you’re doing an amazing job of taking care of him, though.
PT, I’ll post some more pics of Turtle Boy once I get over being annoyed with him. Yesterday, when I got home, there was a piece of cardboard stuck into my big, lush something-or-other (I don’t remember the name of it) plant that has sat on the end of my long, harvest-sized kitchen table for as long as I can remember. The plant has big, sort of elongated oval leaves, and it’s easily two feet from side to side and maybe 3 feet high. The leaves on the inner part of the plant were all mashed down and broken off, and the hand-lettered cardboard sign stuck in the middle of the carnage said, “Turtle was here”. Brat cat!
Lynn, any news on your son-in-law? I hope all is well.
Have a wonderful day, everybody!

Z