All I can think about today are:
1. Smarties and lime popsicles, which I can't have, because i've already had too many, and my tongue feels like swiss cheese.
2. The beach.
I know lots of people feel like they were born in the wrong time-- they love the clothes, or the chivalry, or the marry-a-child-bride laws of an earlier era. But I often feel like I was born in the wrong place. I was meant to be somewhere beachy with lots of water, where temperatures over 80 degrees are accompanied by delicious breezes off the sea. And every time I get to the beach, I can't figure out why I ever leave, except that there aren't a lot of jobs for skin-cancer-experiencing industrial psychologists at the beach. And that beaches aren't the ideal place for energetic toddlers with a lack of caution who like to eat strange things.
Still, i'd rather have Craig, Cleo, and Baby Shmoo in our wonderful house in the hot, humid, far-from-the-beach life. Except for maybe one week a year, when I need to float around in some blue water and sigh wistfully.
Oh, and I learned yesterday where "scallops" come from. They are apparently a muscular bit of a wild migratory mollusk called, oddly enough, a "scallop". And they look like clams and have hundreds of blue eyes and make Evan uncomfortable when he has to kill and eat them after befriending them. They are also hermaphrodites and produce a lot of roe.
I don't like to eat them, even after befriending them, but i'm still glad to know what the hell they are, and that they do not, in fact, grow up wrapped in bacon with a toothpick.