Second round of tomatoes. I have been popping the grape ones like popcorn, all week long. With the larger one, I have made a few tomato and cucumber salads. And the ugly ones I sauteed with onions and garlic, a dash salt, some olive oil, then mixed it with toasted Panko crumbs, sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, and stuffed it all into portobello mushrooms. Delicious.
While I am expecting a decent tomato harvest for the next few weeks, I am not hopeful for much else. Mostly because I failed to plant anything else. Except for pole beans and Brussels sprouts. But the former are young, and the later won't be ready until October, if they show up at all. No cucumbers this year. Which means no pickles. Such a shame. However, that's the price of not planning more carefully.
(It has been several years since I made all those pickles: boy do I miss them!)
My ongoing goal has been to draft these blog posts earlier in the week, both to improve quality (i.e., allow time for revisions and research) and expand content (i.e., cover more topics). I have failed repeatedly to achieve it. However, I have managed a less ambitious accomplishment. For some time, on Sundays, I have wrapped up my blogging before I have to prepare dinner. These little victories are stepping stones to something bigger.
Except, tonight, I broke that streak. It was not until 8 pm that I finally sat down and began typing. I wish I could blame it on a busy, productive day. Alas, I spent all morning, and a part of the afternoon, wasting away in a recliner, still wearing last night's pajamas. In fact, my laundry remains piled up in the basement, unwashed. That is very uncharacteristic of me. By now all four loads would be washed, dried, folded, and put away. And my blog post ready to be published.
That is not what is really eating at me, though. After all, I am writing all this, instead of just passing on it. And while I wish I had finished the laundry, at least I will get a few loads completed before bed time--tomorrow I can fold them. Finally, the day was not a complete wash. My youngest daughter and I baked buttermilk biscuits together; my wife and I watched a new television series; and I cooked a moist, flavorful ham with a side of delicious green beans (the mac & cheese and Caesar salad were store bought, though).
No, it was a text notification sent to me by my local library. It informed me that one of my books was due in two days. And there was no way to renew it. I was crushed. From the moment I had heard about it from a Fresh Air episode on NPR, I desired to read it. Listening to the interview inspired me to search my library. In the end, it required a hold request. A few weeks ago, when it finally arrived, I dropped everything, and dashed out the door to acquire it. As soon as I got home, I began devouring the introduction. Unfortunately, duty called (I think it was dinner, or driving someone somewhere). So, I put the book down in order to complete the chore.
Since then, I failed to return to the book. It just sat there, on the table by the couch, with all my other library books. Each morning, I would walk by, look at the pile, and say, "I will work on you today." When there was a free moment, and I happened to be in the room, I considered grabbing the book and reading it. But some other thought would invade my head space, and I was off into a different world. When I gathered reading material for my vacation, I contemplated bringing it with me. Except, it was a heavy tome, and I did not want to drag along all six-hundred-and-eighty-seven pages (a number which does not include endnotes, a bibliography, and an index). So, it remained, nestled among the other books I abandoned.
(In the end, I read nothing while away, despite packing my lightweight Kindle two works of fiction).
An entire week has passed since returning from my vacation. Plenty of time to read that book. Any book for that matter. Yet, I did nothing. Then the library sent their warning, and I was confronted with my failure. Two days is not enough time to consume six-hundred-and-eighty-seven pages. And I cannot bring myself to hold onto an overdue book. Especially when someone else might be interested in reading it. And have the will to complete the task. They are the ones who deserve to dive into this mighty tome of knowledge. Not I .
I know my weaknesses. I just do not like to confront them. On a Sunday. While I lounge around in my pajamas, laundry piled up, and a blog post hanging over my head. Specifically when my library reminds me that I missed an opportunity to enjoy reading such a worthwhile volume as Legacy of Violence: A History of the British Empire by Caroline Elkins.
Sigh.
At least I have The Family Roe: An American Story by Joshua Prager queued on my Kindle. Sounds like another great historical tale (yet another title I heard about while listening to Fresh Air).
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