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.

Great, now I want lemon bars. Or, no, watching GoT, so lemon cakes.

Maybe one of those lemon/honey/gin cocktails with fizzy water added. That sounds pretty good. Probably a tonic for ... something.

After I'm done sitting down for a while.

Oh, no, Ginger! Argh, injuries from stepping on sharp things are so painful, not to mention the needing a shot aspect. I'd send you back in time with a note to not go outside if I could.

Also, I don't have any lemons.

Oh, ugh, Ginger. Yeah, better safe than sorry, but tomorrow is soon enough.

Wine has been consumed and I'm feeling nice and mellow. I'ma finish the fic I'm reading and then go retire to my bed for a little Bejeweled before final lights out.