I know. I know. Another post with tomato photos. Trust me, even I’m getting sick of these. Humor me with one more week of celebrating the joy that is having a mighty little garden. (How fun is that banana leaf platter my mama bought me when we were in Mexico for Christmas? Matty took it upon himself to fill it with the garden’s pick of the day.)
You mean you don’t display tomatoes in your living room like art?
Trust me, the hilarity of this nonsense has kept me going during a week of few other indulgences. I’m trying to get back into running and swimming shape. Without changes to my diet too, this will take exponentially longer than it should. So, we are eating a lot of steamed fish and veggies. And I’m taking walks in the evening to keep my hands out of the freezer and away from the ice cream.
Thankfully tonight is book club. I’m hosting and very much looking forward to turning this ball of dough and a bucket of those tomatoes into some fantastic margherita pizza, with basil from the garden. Considering I didn’t come close to finishing the book, I’m going to woo the members with food, wine and peach cobbler instead.
Today’s motto: “I smell like chlorine. I deserve a little pizza.”