This is sort of part of last week’s post and on. In a manner of speaking, I kind of got permission to post pictures of my sister and her husband. Their daughter said they had told her it was okay to post their pictures on Facebook so she figured they wouldn’t mind my putting them on here. If they object after the fact, I can always take them down.
At the Yakima Fruit Market, my brother-in-law busied himself picking out corn. He was very selective and made sure he got only good, solid ears. My mouth waters just thinking about it. I’ve always liked food and one of my most developed talents is eating.
While he was getting the corn, my sister was loading up on fruit.
When we got home, the fruit went on top of the upright freezer and every time I’d go by, I’d get a sample. I was such a pig, I embarrassed myself. Not enough to quit, though.
The next day, my niece and her family came over for a mini family reunion. Before we had our afternoon meal, visiting and games took place in view of the lake.
There was lots of energy out there that day but I roamed around with my camera, snapping whatever took my fancy.
My niece had been playing with the fellows but she took a break and I managed to get a picture of her and my sister together.
After the game was over, my great-nephew was still full of life and demonstrated his skill at standing on his head.
My great-niece was more interested in picking flowers and finding bugs. Unlike her grandma, she wasn’t the least bit squeamish about catching them.
Her bouquet in hand, she started over to take them to her grandma
but stopped on the way to share her insect find with her brother.
Everyone was tired and hungry and ready to go in and eat. My sister had spent much of the morning preparing the food. We had fresh asparagus—if you can call cooked asparagus fresh. There were also carrots in a spicy butter sauce that were to die for. The highlight of the meal, though, was the homemade manicotti. The noodles were store bought but the mushrooms had been cooked in butter and combined with the filling of ricotta and other rich goodness. I don’t remember what we had for dessert. Everything else paled alongside that baking dish full of calories. I was in Hog Heaven.
The meal was a leisurely one with good conversation and better food. I had been trying to watch what I ate before the trip in the hope that I’d drop a few lubs but I threw all caution to the wind. I figured that, with my thyroid condition, I wasn’t going to go anywhere but up, anyway. I bought into the notion a lot of people do—if I’m reasonably healthy and happy, why be concerned about my size? I was still a lot smaller than other people I knew. I ate and then I ate some more. You would have thought I was a junkie and the food was laced with heroin. After all (I repeated to myself), I was on vacation and don’t you do things on vacation you wouldn’t normally do otherwise? Trouble was, I did it all the time. At home, at work. It didn’t matter. I ate.
Full as a tick on a dog in the middle of summer, I helped clear the table and took my sister up on the offer of relaxing while the dishwasher was loaded and everything was put away. There was always tomorrow and I knew there were leftovers.