Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

Last night I had another great summer dinner (the menu similar to the best summer dinner #1), something I looked forward to all afternoon while I was working at the library. In what seemed like no time Jay was firing up the grill; I was snipping Swiss rainbow chard and picking tomatoes; RugbyGirl was stopping by to drop off beer; Sierra was pouring drinks as I chopped chard, onions and garlic; TSO and Brett were arriving. It's these simplest of simple moments that I cling to; pray that these are the moments I remember years from now; hope that when most things fade, I will have these nights. I want to remember how we didn't even notice the warmth from the stove-top as I par-cooked the potatoes --theses summer nights are getting cooler; remember the feather-like weight of the chard in my hand, how the stems fought against my old, dull knives; remember the smell of the grill, the sound of the cicadas; remember that familiar feeling of being comfortable with the people you are...

Fruits of our labors Yesterday Sierra, Jay and I all wound up at the garden at the same time. We ate Farm raspberries, fat in their seedy clusters; admired and picked Jay's peppers and tomatoes; brushed dirt off of carrots and bit into their crunchy, sweet meat. Then we moved on to potatoes. Diggings up whites, reds and fingerlings Everyone should dig up potatoes at least once in their life. And I mean dig up by hand. There is nothing so satisfying as turning your two arms into excavating equipment; digging down deep past the surface, sun warmed soil, down into the cool, bug filled earth. As your hands drag back up towards the surface, like a swimmer coming up for air, you realize that without even knowing it, you've stumbled upon potatoes. Potatoes no bigger than a marble, huge ones, in-betweens, worm-bored ones. I dug up all of these fingerling potaotes! And as you dig you begin to salivate, turning into a Forrest Gump of sorts, now listing off every w...