Cherrypicking

There are three things which have done well in the garden this year: the lettuce, the basil and the cherries. On Sunday moonandtree and I made delicious pesto and had it with rotini. There are no words to describe how wonderful it tasted.

Today I finally got my act together and picked the cherries from the tree. I had to leave some behind: a couple were way too high for me to reach, and a bunch of them looked... well, like something had snacked on them. Extensively. A little blemish is fine, but if half the cherry is gone and the other half is turning brown and dripping, well, let's just say I'm not quite that brave. ;)

There are a fair number of cherries this year. I thought there were many last year too, but ai731 says that this is the first year the cherry tree has produced significant amounts of fruit. In any case, a half-hour's worth of work has produced a large bowl of cherries. I haven't measured them out, but I estimate I have 3-4 cups' worth. I'm not sure if that's average for a mature tree or not, but it should certainly be enough to make pie or clafoutis.

Now, if only the rest of the garden would catch up. I think I shall go harvest some lettuce for lunch, too.

I wish I'd been let in on this "secret" earlier...

I don't know, if someone had told me fifteen years ago that life is a process, whether I'd have believed them. At fifteen, I had this vague impression that by the time I was thirty not only would I have had everything figured out, but I'd have a home, a prestigious job (I had very different notions of that at fifteen), and a family (husband and at least one child, plus dog). Picket fence, large rose garden (I didn't know about growing veggies back then), and dinner parties once a month.

Heh.

I kind of wish I'd clued into what I really want out of life earlier than when I did. There's a span of about four or five years that I spent in my twenties having no idea about anything, and I did a lot of things which are even now contributing to sabotaging my current plans. My kingdom for a time machine, so I could go back and tell myself "This particular thing you are about to do is a Bad Plan." Mostly it's the financial decisions I made which sucked, and I don't think I would create a horrific temporal paradox by, say, NOT leasing a car at the age of 23, only a few months before quitting my job.

So these days I keep having to repeat to myself that life is a process. Process process process. In many ways I'm still that fifteen-year-old, looking around at my life and saying: "But I'm 30 now! Why hasn't it all fallen into place?" Thirty seemed like the magic "adult" number, and to a certain extent still does.

I have my act together these days, far moreso than I ever have in my entire life. I just keep having to remind myself that it's not going to happen all at once; that's just not how it works. I keep looking around and wondering why I'm not "done," and then I remember that I will never be "done." "Done" isn't a word that applies to life.

And you thought *Canada* was bad?

irishyogini has posted this information about proposed gun legislation (Blair-Holt) in the U.S.

Makes the CFRO look positively civilized, don't you think?

Food for thought, whether you're a raging Libertarian or in favour of gun control. Seems awfully over-the-top to me, but then I haven't taken a close look at it yet. I trust irishyogini when she says it doesn't look like a hoax, but will be doing some fact-checking of my own when I'm not running out the door to work.

Pan-Pan has pulled another disappearing act

Stupid cat. He vanished into the ether just as I was about to leave for work, and I had to lock him out of the house.

I hope he spends the evening hanging out in the garden and stays put until I get back.

I am going to be a basket case all evening.

*sigh*

The cat is fine.

Sheesh.

He wasn't even outside. So much for my lovely, obedient Pan-Pan who comes when called. He must have been hiding somewhere in the apartment and been too comfy to come when I called him.

Stupid cat. He is entirely unrepentant too, the bastard.

Hmph.