Picking cherries

My daughter Gamma has a small pie-cherry tree that gives us a bountiful harvest every year around this time. Yesterday my father-in-law and I were picking some.

(By the way, I came home from work one evening a few days ago and heard this clip-clip-clip noise in the back yard and see my wife sitting on the steps in her bathing suit, bent over. Her back was to me. I was like, my wife is in her bathing suit clipping her toenails in the back yard? It was a pretty loud clipping sound, as if she had really thick toenails. I can remember how thick my father’s got late in his life, and yellow. But my wife was only pitting cherries – our cherry pitting device broke, or vanished, and all the store had was this one-cherry-at-a-time hand pitter that makes a sound a lot like clipping my father’s toenails, I guess. My wife put on her swim suit because pitting cherries is such a messy affair. Also: maybe there is a charming way to say, “Oh! You are pitting cherries! Whoa! I thought you were cutting your toenails!” but if there is it did not occur to me in time.)

We were picking and picking. Pounds and pounds of cherries, kilograms and kilograms. It had rained that night and the tree was wet and little tiny snails were on the cherries.

Little bitty guys. Not, like, on every cherry, but on quite a few.  I held a cherry with a snail on it up to my fingernail and the little, tiny snail climbed off the cherry onto my fingernail. Really tiny, seriously. Light yellow shell with a greenish tint, translucent snail-part. He was a friendly little guy, kept his feelers out the whole time, just marched right onto my fingernail. I picked cherries like that for a while. Then I had another cherry with a snail on it and held that up to the same fingernail. This snail looked just like the first one, but was even smaller, about a half to two-thirds the size. It was more bashful about climbing onto my finger. I don’t know what it was. Maybe he was just timid. Maybe he was, like, this finger is already occupied! I finally got impatient and just gently placed him on my fingernail beside the first snail.

The two snails looked at each other and then started climbing on each other and got all tangled up. Were they fucking or were they eating each other? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. I was in a Schrödingerian quandary. If they were eating each other, they ought to be separated cause otherwise it would be my fault when one got eaten. But if they were having sex, then it would be rude to do that.

I watched them for a while. Then I put them on a leaf and picked more cherries.


Our fridge shorted out and caught on fire today.

It had been threatening to for a long time now.

We never really believed it was serious. Even though we constantly feared it would happen.

It was a great excuse for getting out of work a few minutes early: I have to go help my wife put out the fire in our kitchen.

Other silver lining-type details: now we get a new fridge.

On the minus side, my wife wants a fridge that is, admittedly, a good deal, and has a metallic front so we can finally do the fridge magnet thing (our old fridge had a wooden front. And it cooled with REAL ICE that we CUT FROM THE FROZEN LAKE IN WINTER (no, really, the wooden front was to match the kitchen decor)). But it is a couple inches too wide and too deep for the space, so Alpha wants me to adjust the cabinetry to make room.

I don’t know if i can do that. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. I am not crazy about the idea, because i have a bad feeling that this is going to offset the savings from the cheap fridge by a couple orders of magnitude.

Cello recital

The cello category here looked lonesome.

I had my cello recital recently.  I thought I sucked, although less than last year (yay!). But according to my wife and my cello teacher, I didn’t. So isn’t that nice, I didn’t suck at my cello recital this year. I played some Vivaldi, and boy do I love Vivaldi.

Good old Vivaldi.

What a world, huh?

Go, little robot

Little toy robot excels at walking straight ahead.

Go, little robot, go.

It’s got these batteries that never wear out, like in some commercial. And when it hits a wall, it just keeps walking.

Walking in place. It can do this forever, face up against the wall. Walking is what it does.

Walking, walking. It can do this for forty, fifty years, at least.

Then it gets turned around.

Boy does that feel good!

Go, little robot.

Naivety scene

An old guy on the radio said naivety was what keeps us human.

He had passed through a concentration camp, and WWII in general, as a child, losing his parents in the process, and attributed the fact that he was still human to his naivety, and his  ability to retain it.

Naive need not be a synonym for stupid, or an easy mark.

I wonder if I’m naive. I think so. Everyone likes to think they’re human, right?

So a rabbi, Bill Gates and a shadow are golfing, right?

Bill Gates says to the rabbi, so anyhow, now not only do I have all these loud tenants in my house, I have the goat, my in-laws, a giant beetle with the apple stuck in its side, a golem AAAAAYAND Bruno Schulz.

Oy, says the rabbi. Bruno Schulz is even more depressing than Kafka.

He makes Kafka look like David Sedaris, says Bill Gates.

I have a surprise for you, says the shadow.

He makes Kafka look like Amy Sedaris, says the rabbi.

He makes… says Bill Gates.

Ignore me at your peril, says the shadow.

The rabbi checks his book. Par for this hole is six, he says. I got stuck in the sand trap once here. I was in tears.

It’s a good surprise, says the shadow. You’ll like it.

Tortoise update

Nice thunderstorm last night, complete with lightning and thunder (duh) real close, and cloudbursts. In the middle of it all, I checked on the tortoise, to see if he’d gone into his house. He had not. He was atop his stone.

My interpretation was that he was just, you know, c’mon baby, who cares about a little storm!!?!

My wife’s was that he was protecting his stone from the elements.

I put both of them into his house.

This morning, after I finish my coffee, I’ll put his rock back in its usual spot. I’m afraid he’d never come back out of his house if I didn’t (he = tortoise, not rock).

(Apparently the rock = female).