I love strawberries. When I was little, I would call them "strawbabys". I have no idea why, but it's better than accidentally calling hamburgers "hamboogers", which I also did. There was a strawberry patch in my current backyard actually, until it was run over by a truck. The general consensus was that there would be no more little, tasty (though watery) strawberries. Wednesday, I went to put my items for work in the car so that I could just get in the car and go when it was time to leave for work. It was then that something bright red caught my eye. Intrigued, I ventured forward to the small rectangular patch of miscellaneous short plants. Oh look, little strawberries. How surprised you, my reader, must be. I promptly took the ripe ones of a corner into the house. Eight. One, as big as a store bought strawberry. I ate two, then rebrushed my teeth before work.
When I returned home I grabbed a bowl and went outside. I do admit that I jumped and drew my hand back from the weed infested strawberry patch more than once for fear of spiders. The bowl was overflowing after I had only combed through the edges. Once inside, two strawberries, one of which was particularly stubborn, kept trying to make a leap for it. I filled the sink a little ways with water, washed them, dried them, and put them in a bigger bowl. I felt very useful.
I apologize for not telling you more, but in truth life has been full of ennui. In fact it is much like the Henri videos. There are two. The part about making new friends reminded me of Lil-Bit. She has the same problem. If you don't recall, Lil-Bit is my calico kitten. She is about two thirds the size of the Lady of Shed-Lots, whom is routinely referred to as "The Meatloaf".
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