If some random guy on the internet can be trusted, my ancestry can be traced back to 12th-century France. That's cool, though it probably has about a 5% chance of being right. But still! I feel like I should have a family crest.

(Yes, there's a "you can cure cancer with lemons and baking soda soda" thing going around.)

JFC. It would be less ridiculous if it were dandelions or rose quartz, or something else that everyone doesn't eat all the fucking time. You'd think people would have noticed if lemon bars cured cancer.

But just in case....

(Yes, there's a "you can cure cancer with lemons and baking soda soda" thing going around.)

In eighth grade, my science project was about laetrile.

But still! I feel like I should have a family crest.

Dana, are you any relation to the Delaware [same last name as yours]?

Mm, lemon bars!

Have made it to Vancouver! Am impressed at everyone adulting today. We drove down the gorgeous highway again (seriously. Prettiest highway EVER) and stopped at some viewpoints and beaches, and ate Timbits and now Joyce is insisting she has to watch the Tonys in real time, streaming, so she can also Twitter. And I'm like "but I'm in Vancouver! We should be doing stuff!!"

are you any relation to the Delaware [same last name as yours]?

Oh, the ones with money? I am not. I seem to pretty much be related to poor Cajun farmers.

Timbits!

Oh, the ones with money?

Well, they're also sort of nutty, and not in the good way, so yay!

So my love of lemon bars and huge consumption thereof is all preventative medicine, right?

Then you have people like my brother, who absolutely hates doctors, who may or may not be exhibiting signs of Parkinson's. And, because his hate of doctors is so intense, refuses to see a doctor about it, saying it's manageable. I'm pretty sure he'll be lucky if he makes it to 70.

I'm done adulting, except in the way I've decided to relax, with some wine.

I step outside for five fucking minutes and I have to check when my last tetanus show was. (It was 2007. Kaiser is good about keeping track of stuff.) Theoretically I'm fine within 10 years, but my immune system is not quite up to snuff.

There are some spikes where the some now most rotted steps were. Whatever is left of the wood has a tenacious hold on the spikes, and I can't pull them out or pound them in. They haven't been a real problem except for their ability to catch every passing hose. I usually wear athletic shoes outside, but I just wanted to look at something on a tomato plant. Those spikes, it turns out, will go right through the sole of Crocs. I refuse to go anywhere tonight. I'll call the oncology nurse line in the morning.

What was on two tomato plants was early blight, which will kill them. Can I have a do-over?

Oh, fuck, Ginger.