We went to the shore yesterday to celebrate Drob’s birthday. It was gorgeous; a perfect beach day. We were loath to leave because we were having so much fun flying our kites in the strong breeze off the Atlantic. Consequently, it was late when we finally returned home, sandy and sunburnt, and utterly unprepared for the fact that MONDAY was coming, ready or NOT!

In spite of our fatigue, we managed somehow to get to school on time this morning. We even walked there. Our car is still in the shop, and they are still working on repairing it. Apparently the reconditioned radiator that they put in today was leaking, so they need to procure *another* one. Luckily I was able to borrow my MIL’s car, though I am sure I’ll need to get it back to her tonight, or early tomorrow.

I picked up our CSA delivery today, and added a huge variety of squash, some gorgeous yellow tomatoes, kale, chard, a dozen pears, and parsley to the bushel of tomatoes I bought on my way home from the shore. I couldn’t resist — $10.95 for so many juicy, ripe plum tomatoes. I have been wanting to learn how to can. Here, I thought, is my opportunity: I want to make a huge batch of tomato sauce and can it.

I also started making a batch of salsa using tomatillos from my garden, plum tomatoes, and what I thought were relatively mild jalapenos. After cutting up the peppers, I washed my hands thoroughly. I was utterly surprised, therefore, when while I attempted to floss her teeth, poor Carla started screaming that the floss was making her mouth go on fire.

Drob and I looked at each other in utter terror. Was she having another PTSD-type episode? Could it be? Was she freaking out because of the way Drob had held her head as I flossed her teeth? Finally it dawned on me that I must have still had some oil from the jalapeno peppers on my hands, and just touching her mouth caused her to react to it. Immediately I touched my tongue to see if that was it; and sure enough my hands are really, really spicy right now. Poor kid! She is NOT used to such flavors.

Although I felt really bad for making her miserable, I was so, so relieved that it wasn’t, you know, a mental freak out. A glass of milk, some ice, some time, and she will be just fine. As opposed to needing 6 - 8 months of therapeutic play sessions!!!