Finally, "I can't tell if I'm hungry," I said to Sarafina.
". . ."
"I want something crunchy and sweet," and then I made teeth-gnashing faces at her, to illustrate.
"What about something crunchy and salty?" she asked.
Thinking she had used some of her own money to buy delicious chips or something, I said, "Like what?"
We agreed, popcorn would be good and there were ways to make it sweet, too. Alas! There was no popcorn in the cupboard. I think Oona the niece may have gotten to the jar and broken it, as she's going through a glass-container phase. Then I remembered -- I'm a gardener!
I'm a gardener who grew popcorn.
I'd tried to pop some a couple of weeks ago and didn't have much joy, but the cleaned ears were sitting upstairs in the hot attic in a wire basket, drying out. Might they be ready?
Delicious, homegrown popcorn! I was pretty tickled. The only caveat I had was that this black-hulled popcorn looked alarmingly burnt when popped. The smell was fine, though, so the snack, it was eaten:
Orphan kernels are a favorite of mine.
Though a little bored, we were also interested in amusing the Saddest Girl In The World.
An evening bee sting the night before yielded the typical family reaction:
Benadryl is helping, as are ice baths. She's looking much better.