Every once in a while I think about blogging. And then I think maybe I should just start a new blog, a fresh start that would liken itself to more writing and less thinking about writing. But really, the excuses are just that. empty.

The weather is fickle right now and the garden loves every day like a fish its gills. The lettuce is almost big enough to harvest and I fear with all the heads in their rows we’re going to have to be vegetarians just to keep up with the growth and green. Maybe we were a bit over-zealous when planting. When trying to fit them all in our humble garden plot we debated so many options for arrangement. Would the tomatoes be friendly enough to allow carrots and evening conversation? Would the turnips turn sour towards the spicy peppers and sweet strawberries? I know not the politics of produce and instead debated planting alphabetically. But I am a scientist at heart and in the end survival of the fittest won. Spencer and Darwin would be proud. I just hope the ‘world’s largest pumpkin’ doesn’t really get that big because I really like cabbage.

Work has been work. In every sense of the word. It seems like cramming a full time job into 4 days a week instead of 5 would leave me with more time for other things. But cramming anything just means I drink more coffee, stay up too late trying to get everything done, oversleep the next day and still have laundry baskets full of clothes and towels that needed to get washed last week. Or maybe the week before. School is out in four weeks and I’m looking forward to the summer off. I currently have at least 2 million trips I want to take and approximately 40 hundred things I want to do.

I worked a brief (read: almost nonexistent) stint with a doctor who wants to get me into medical school. Or at least he wants to help me get myself in. I suppose in the end I had to tell him I really don’t know what I want. I don’t know. And I don’t want to waste your time. So thank you. It felt weird having someone I did not know for more than a few days believe in me more than I do myself. He told me to keep in touch and three weeks later I finally returned his e-mail. ugh. I just want to bake. and garden. and ride my bike. and eat this crazily good smelling meatball sandwich that just came my way via a very nice boy. is that too much to ask?