Listening: Blood on the Tracks, Bob Dylan. One of my all-time favorite albums, but one I can only play when Tab is not around since he will not stop making fun of Dylan's voice.

Weather: More hot and humid weather, and no rain yet.

Baking: A blueberry cobbler from a recipe Mom sent me.

In the Farmers Market: Tomatoes, corn, eggplant, zucchini, potatoes, peppers of all colors and varieties, cucumbers, blueberries, peaches, watermelon, cantaloupes--everything! Background courtesy of
Ace of Space

Corn and Tomatoes

My sister and her family are due to stop in town this weekend on their way back to Maine from a vacation in North Carolina. My mother asked if I would send some tomatoes back north with them since the tomatoes they get in Maine are just pale, tasteless imitations of fresh New Jersey tomatoes. So the twins and I visited the Farmer's Market this morning.

The place was packed. We had to drive around a few minutes before we found somewhere to park. This is the best time of year to go to the Farmer's Market. I could lapse into Dickensian raptures about the red roundness of the tomatoes, the rosy, maidenly blush of the peaches, the midnight sky gleam of the eggplant...but I won't. Dickens was getting paid by the word; I'm not.

Instead, I'll merely repeat what I've written before: the Farmer's Market is one of my favorite places to shop. One could dine like kings on all the delicious produce, imported cheeses and meats, and fresh bakery products for sale there. I always leave the Farmer's Market resolved to buy and prepare only the healthiest, freshest foods for my family. That resolution lasts about as long it takes for the boys to recoil in horror from a vegetable ragout and ask for Kraft's macaroni and cheese instead.

All three of them love tomatoes, though, and the twins like corn, too, so I bought a few ears. The last time we had corn on the cob, I scraped some kernels off and asked Daniel to try a few, at least. He gingerly balanced one kernel on the edge of his fork and placed it in his mouth. He swallowed, pursed up his lips in an expression of revulsion, and shook his head vehemently. "I still don't like corn," he declared.

"Fine. All the more for us," I answered.

I bought about 15 pounds of tomatoes today, most of which will be sent north for Mom to divvy out. The girl at the farmstand tried to pick out the not-quite-ripe ones so that they don't turn into a sodden mess by the time Mom gets them from my brother-in-law on Sunday night or Monday.

Conversation in the Car

Stephen was trying my patience on the drive to Princeton to pick up Tab this afternoon. After I had told him many times to quit bothering his brothers--singing loudly--swinging his toy around--putting his feet on Matthew, etc.--Stephen yelled, "I don't like you!"

"Well, I don't like the way you're acting."

No verbal response to this, but...

"Mama! Stephen's making faces at you!"

I glance in the rear view mirror in time to see Stephen's face contorted into a ridiculous expression, which he no doubt intended to be fearsome. I just had to laugh. "Well, he looks pretty foolish, doesn't he?" I respond.

"Yeah, Stephen! You look foolish!"

Loud sobs and crocodile tears from Stephen.

I don't know why it bothers me so much when Stephen acts up. When Matthew's cranky, I accept it as just part of Matthew's usual high strung behavior. I guess it's not fair of me to expect that Stephen will always be cherubic. He's a little boy, not an angel even though he smiles like one.

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