As this summer of ill repute is cranking down, I’ve had too much time to reflect on the oddness of it. You probably just heard that huge thunder clap, and as soon as I crawl out from under the couch I will continue. Weather- wise, it’s actually been hot and sunny which is my jam. The gardens have been resplendent (what a great show-off word), and there’s been plenty of local ‘farm to table’ kind of eating. Which sounds quite trendy and healthy and hip. Problem is, my hips rather enjoyed the feast. I quite liked one local farmer when I thought his stand was named after him. When I found out it was named after his dead cat, it somewhat lost its allure. No one in a barn has just ONE dead cat. Just where are you putting Those left-overs? And did I mention he grew the biggest, sweetest melons I’ve ever seen???? So now that certain parts of my body are starting to look like overgrown cantaloupe, I need to start eating even locallier. (Yes, that’s a word). I’m talking in-house. A little from this thigh, a smidge from that a$$. Reallllly local. And kind of gross. Might be easier this fall to pull it together with not much football, Halloween candy, or all those things I used as excuses. And enjoyed. Girls just want to have fun and all that. No shenanigans around here anymore sigh. I have some work to do. Although there will be plenty of snaccidents, at least I won’t be tempted by the mega-produce stand. Which does sound pretty dumb even as I say it I know. But there is something in that cat fertilizer. Just sayin……