So

The heat has broken, and it is my fault.  I moved my office to the basement to beat the heat, so the heat went away and I’ve moved the office back upstairs.  Not a big deal.  Just a laptop and some piles of paper, but apparently enough of an effort that, having made it, the forces decided to screw with me.  No matter.  It felt good to be a little cold on the ride to the garden this morning.  Restorative!

We took to the driveway with a bottle of New Mexico’s finest bubbly to celebrate the arrival of pleasant temps.  The wine wasn’t fully chilled so as soon as I pressed on the cork with my thumb it shot skyward with a huge bang.  Champagne everywhere and me counting my eyes (still two).  The cork landed seconds later–I heard it hit–but it hasn’t been found.  Who needs Estes rockets?

Lost about a glass and Lacey and I made the other four disappear in short order.  Frida started to clean the drive, but the bubbles made her sneeze so she left the rest for the flies.

Work isn’t so bad just now.  I’m taking advantage of the convergence of a free hour and tolerable temps to fire up the oven for a roasting session.  Turnips and poblano peppers got the heat treatment.  

A pressure cooker filled with garbanzos is also happening.  The turnips and garbanzos will top salads tonight.  The poblanos will get whizzed with tomatoes, onions, garlic lime and cumin to make a salsa.

The garden is offering up so many cucumbers just now.  I bring home six a day.  I have the season’s second gallon of pickles fermenting now.  Cherry tomatoes and beans are also coming home.  It is a good time to be a vegan.

I’m laughing at the uproar over Chick-fil-As gay marriage controversy.  One comment was something like I won’t eat a nugget filled with hate.  Is anyone really surprised that the president of this company is mean?  He built a business choking chickens!  That much indifference to the lives of so many beings can’t be limited to chickens.  He’s gotta spread it around some, and spread it around he has.  If you are going to boycott Chick-fil-A, don’t go next door to KFC or Popeye’s.  Send a message of true love and skip all the joints frying up critters.

Lacey brought me home this little cutie!  I named him mang (’cause he is a man and he has a mane).  Lacey hadn’t heard the term, so this link is for her.  I love him so.

That’s about it.  Be well!