The broccili in the garden has done well. Not great, but well. This post isn't actually about the garden it's about another favorite blog topic- J.
We went to Mt. Ranier on Sunday. It was one of the adventures my family went on when I was in labor, and it was on the list of places I wanted to go this summer. So we figured before I started work we should head down.
We packed a picnic- oops stale 9 grain bread was both dry and grainy so our sandwhich was crap. Yikes those apricots were squishy but not because they were ripe, and that bag of pita chips was from early July but were as stale as last March. So that didn't work.
We got to one of the destination viewpoint entrances only to be told we had to wait at least 30 minutes to get to the viewpoint. I guess everyone else was at Mt. Rainier that day.
But then, we parked the car and followed a great path up too many steps and down too many slopes it lead us to a delightful glacial lake. S swam and I waded around in our undies- J drank and inhaled some mountian water and we hiked out. It was wonderful.
Our drive out of the park was fine for S. But J cried, screamed, or fussed for all but 10 minutes of the 2 hours to a place to eat, I got super sick on the way back and two cars in front of us engaged in the scariest series of road rage incedence that I've ever seen. Nonetheless, after all the chaos and all the crying we arrive at a clean but uninteresting chain pizza place. 2 salad bars and a very bad bbq chicken pizza later and J had not touched the pizza or the cheese. Rather, she had successfully taken down the equivalent of an entire head of broccili. In fact, we brought some to the car with us and it lasted her the rest of the way home.
Wierd and wonderful.