Wednesday, June 9, 2021
Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mantle
Dave served a salad last night for dinner, and I was going to be adventurous and incorporate some sow thistle leaves into it. (Only into mine -- Dave wants no part of eating sow thistle.) Instead I decided to start small, so I pulled one leaf off the plant that volunteered on our patio, washed it and ate it as a prelude to our actual salad. It was "palatable," as Wikipedia said, but not exactly delicious. Sort of generically green-tasting. Still, I'd eat it again, now that it hasn't killed me or induced anaphylactic shock.
I also made banana pudding, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Dave ordered a box of Nilla wafers ages ago with this in mind, and I got a box of instant vanilla pudding, and they've been sitting in our kitchen taunting me ever since. So on Monday I made the pudding and layered it with the wafers and some bananas and voila. Granted, it's the least laborious version of banana pudding possible, given that some recipes call for making custard and meringue and baking it all in the oven. But hey, it worked!
As I sat in the garden yesterday afternoon reading "Sounder," which is perhaps the most depressing Newbery-winning book I have tackled yet, I heard the crack of a baseball bat from a garden nearby. Another American family lives a few doors down from us, and I figured their boys must be playing baseball in the back garden -- and sure enough, within minutes a ball came sailing over the fence into our garden. I'd found a baseball several weeks ago and figured it was theirs, but this is the first time I actually saw it come flying. I picked it up and took it over to their house, which is what I did the last time too.
I don't mind an occasional stray ball as long as it doesn't hit anything breakable. (Or me!) But God forbid if it lands in Mrs. Kravitz's exceptionally manicured garden -- those boys will never see it again, and there may be a lawsuit.
(Photo: Variations on a theme -- street art found on Finchley Road on our walk to work.)