Yesterday we went to the adult soap box derby on Mt Tabor to see people careening around the curves in homemade contraptions. This wine barrel one was my favorite even though it didn’t go very fast. It made a cool clanking-rolling sound as it lumbered down the road. I had a fantasy that it was filled with wine which would at some point be uncorked and served to me but that didn’t happen. I had to make due with the hefeweizen I brought from home which was lovely in its own way. Bagpipe Man even remembered the lemon which made it just about perfect what with all the sunshine, babies, and some really awesome seven year gouda. Summertime in Portland can be kind of idyllic at times.

Later I walked down to Pastaworks with Legoguy so I could buy stuff for a goodbye Angsty-nomore dinner and we found a hazelnut tree. I’m not sure when hazelnuts get ripe or whether they need to dry like walnuts, but it seems like quite a find. Perhaps I’ll make nutella. At Pastaworks I bought prosciutto instead of pancetta though so now I have to figure out what to do with $20 worth of really thin ham. Fancy split pea soup? Prosciutto wrapped melon for thirty? I suppose I could use it to infuse bourbon like they supposedly do at some swanky Hollywood bar but that sounds unnecessarily gimmicky. I’ll probably just eat it up piece by piece on the sly while everyone thinks I’m putting the dishes away.

I grew some purple carrots in an old black plastic pot which are magnificent. I don’t even really like carrots because they take so long to chew but these are crisp and sweet with none of the bitter woodiness I’ve come to expect from healthy snacks. Here’s what they look like on the inside:

I heard a rumor that the crazy magenta cooks right out of them, but who would want to cook a carrot anyway? Bleh! We are consuming all 8 of them raw with much lip smacking and general amazement that I’ve finally managed to grow carrots that don’t look like little hairy male torsos. The secret is all in the container. Carrots are too lazy to push through all that Portland clay and would rather turn into grotesque charactertures than make a genuine effort not to look obscene. A nice potting mix is crucial. I’m going to grow way more than 8 next year!

Speaking of obscene:

Lucy almost never wears pants. Not even when I tell her she is going to be on the internet.

Dashman has long been a saver of seeds. These are from way back in his hippie preschool days when he was a bit of a peacenik. I wasn’t sure they were still viable but a fine little pumpkin is turning orange out there so I guess pUmpPRiU 2eed2 last a long time.

Portland is hot again so I am sweltering and barely keeping up with the watering. I imagine the Marvelous Plot of Awesomeness might be slightly less awesome right now, as a result, so I’m trying to get Bagpipe Man to go over there and water so I don’t have to see anything that might make me sad. I have a feeling there are a bunch of ripe tomatoes lying on the ground because the plants were improperly staked with small twigs and toilet paper tubes. When will we learn? Also I am quite fearful that many large and bitter cucumbers lie in silent reprimand under the mounds of volunteer ground cherries that I didn’t pull up. I imagine my plot looks far worse than anyone else’s (even the one tended by 8 year olds) so I’m not going back over there until I hear otherwise. I’m going to stay right here amongst the fabulousness that is the yard and admire my pumpkin.