doing

It's quiet this morning at the coffeeshop. Just the way I like it. My concentration is much improved without the loud conversations around me, and I can actually read past the first sentence to the next and the next until I've read a page and then another page. I am on such a roll!

Where is everyone? Is there something going on that I don't know about? Did all the regulars get jobs? It's hard for me to imagine that they have something better to do—and I'm not just being snarky. I can see that the morning regulars at J&S Bean Factory have formed a community.

Perhaps the regulars are outside, enjoying the beautiful weather. It's all sunshine and clear skies here in Minnesota. And, not that I should complain prematurely—but I will—the heat and humidity are on their way.

So, what am I doing?

reading
It's summer, and I have been reading about as much fluff as I can stand. About 60 pages remain in my latest guilty pleasure. Petite Anglaise is a blogger's memoir. Author Catherine Sanderson is a British ex-pat in Paris. At the time she started her blog, Petite Anglaise, she was working as a secretary and living with her French boyfriend (Mr. Frog, predictably) and their baby (Tadpole, of course). Without giving too much away, she has an affair with a reader who has left a comment on her blog—and hi-jinks ensue. I'm enjoying this insider's look at blogging and the thrill of connecting with those who leave comments (not so much the affair, which is pretty uncool). And, I love Paris. Even the descriptions of unglamorous activities that are inherently Parisian, such as waiting for a train at a metro stop, have me jonesing for the City of Lights.

Admittedly, I am craving a little more substance so I will next turn my attention to Muriel Spark's Abbess of Crewe, described by the publisher as an "elegant fable about intrigue, corruption, and electronic surveillance." My friend Caryl and I have an informal Spark discussion, which has been on hiatus but, as we both miss our dose of Spark, is now being resumed.

eating
I'm not a big fan of strawberries so I don't buy them often. Simon, on the other hand, loves strawberries. For him, I will buy strawberries in the spring, when the big, juicy red one come in from California. He gravitates toward the largest containers at the grocery store and we argue about how its too large and that a pint will be plenty. "But, Mom, I really, really love strawberries. Please. I'll eat all of them. I promise." Yet, this year, he has hardly made a dent in his strawberry supply before the container is overrun by mold. I've got to say, I can't blame him for rejecting them. These berries, which are bright red and look ripe, are firm and nearly tasteless, bordering on tart.

So on Sunday when we spotted strawberries at the St. Paul Farmers Market, I let Simon pick out the biggest, fullest container the stand had. No argument. Simon took a small, hesitant bite from a berry, replete with cap and stem, gave me a glance and said between bites, "Now this is good." Even my eight-year-old can tell the difference between a strawberry that had been picked before its prime and shipped acrossed the country and a strawberry that had been picked the night before it was sold, spending, at best, twenty minutes to get to market. These local strawberries were so sweet and tasty and obviously sun-kissed.

And, also highly perishable. We enjoyed eating many out-of-hand, but most of the quart was pureed yesterday to become ice cream later today.

playing
John and I took the little boys to see the Star Wars exhibit at the Science Museum last weekend. We had a great time, mostly because the boys were excited to see seven-foot tall Wookies and lightsabers. We also saw Special Effects, a short film formatted for the IMAX theater that offered a short history and a few examples of movie special effects, such as how the Millenium Falcon flies. Simon, especially, is intrigued by the possibility of a career blowing things up in the name of movie magic. I'd support that, with the caveat that he would be the very best Hollywood pyromaniac pyrotechnical expert he could be. And, maybe I should be careful what I wish for.

riding
Last week, I took a 15-mile bike ride with my friend Bonnie. We rode at the same pace and could carry on a conversation, which made the time fly. Tonight we're going to get another ride in and hopefully make this a regular weekly ride. Also, since I'm feeling stronger on the bike, I opted in for a family ride this past weekend. I pulled Winston on a tagalong, while John towed Simon, and we used our bikes as our main form of transportation to get our destination: the State Fair, five miles from our house. Much of our ride was done on bike lanes. It was easy and fun. Our reward was a two hour walk around the fairgrounds, looking at vintage cars. John and I agreed that the MG we dream about restoring when the boys are grown could easily be replaced by a '50s Corvette.