Blueberry Season

I took the girls and a friend blueberry picking today.  No one cried, no one fussed, no one pooped in their pants.  It was almost boring.  But we've got lots of these:

I know, my photography skills are just amazing

And my resident chef (David, of course) is in the kitchen right now, whipping up a blueberry buckle. Sure, he's probably doing that to avoid schoolwork, but I don't care.  Summer is here in all its humid glory, and we must make the best of it.

Brian has been away all week at a Boy Scout camp, learning to sail a 30-foot boat. The boys sleep on the boat, also, so I've spent the week worrying that Brian's once-in-a-while sleepwalking habit will rear its ugly head and he'll sleepwalk into the bay.  Larry says I'm being ridiculous and vetoed my suggestion that we tell the sailing instructor to make Brian sleep with a life vest on.

No one listens to me around here.

It is still my birthday week, however; so last night - after yoga - I treated myself to a salad and some birthday chocolate for dinner.  It seemed like the right thing to eat.  Tonight? We are having pizza, purportedly to congratulate David on his SAT scores, but really because I forgot to plan anything for dinner.

Well, not forgot, exactly - more like, didn't bother...have I mentioned it is hot and humid out?

Oh, and before I go, the flowers in the glass vase on the rickety table actually managed to die before being knocked over, so I replaced them with a bunch that my friend gave me for my birthday:

AGAIN with the photography skills!

And that's it.  I need to go order the pizza so Larry can pick it up on the way home from work.  Yup, I'm even too lazy today to pick up my own pizza.  That's what humidity will do to a person.