The Most Delicious Time of the Year

I had to take a little internet sabbatical late last week.  It just wasn't good for my blood pressure to be hanging out, reading all the articles on the Supreme Court's Obamacare decision.

I know my hope is in God, and that He wins in the end, but sometimes I'd just like to win one here on earth.  Just one.  Sigh . . .

So instead of discussing that whole hot mess, I've been eating my way through summer.  Sublimation with food is one of my specialties.   

Luckily, most of what I want to eat is summertime's plentiful fresh fruit.  We are so blessed to be able to get some really delicious local fruit.

Unluckily, I also want to turn that fruit into pies and crumbles and buckles and breads.   I try to eat a lot of the fresh and less of the baked good variety, but it's a crap shoot really.  

Last week, my mother picked some of the most delicious blueberries I've had in a long time.  They were a lovely deep, dusky blue and they tasted exactly like you dream a blueberry should taste.  I took their perfect blueberry-ness and turned it into  . . .

blueberry buckle, yum!

Which is really just a nice way of saying "breakfast dessert."  That's what we call it around here.

I also made some blueberry jam, which no one really likes except for Rob.  I have no idea why, since we love blueberries, but for some reason we are primarily a grape or strawberry people.  Never fear, Rob will work his way through that jam with no problem, and I'm pretty sure I can sneak it onto some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches without detection.

On a completely different note, I loved hearing all of your title suggestions for "Rob Says," my shameless borrowing of Camp Patton's "Simon Says."   But leave it to my husband to come up with the title that I enjoyed the most.

All pithy Rob-isms to be imparted will henceforth be known as "The Doctor Is In."  Oh man, that just tickles me for some reason.

And now, because I hate to keep the patients waiting, the doctor is in:

• deadpan, after seeing Mopsy run by in nothing by a diaper and bead necklace, : 

         The natives are restless.

• while sitting at the table with Baby and me, trying to coax dinner into her (and in his best Michael Jackson voice):

          Eat it.  Just eat it.  Don't you make me repeat it.

• while witnessing Mopsy's invented outfit of the day, including multiple headbands, puffy skirt, and off the shoulder shirt:

           Me:  What is she wearing? She looks like a refugee!

           Rob:  From where?  The 80s?  Aren't we all?

• Bun, running past us at bed time:  Don't look at me! I'm naked!

          Rob:  Who told you you were naked? 

• after the aforementioned Bible humor:

          Man, what do atheists get to laugh about?

• after asking him to help me remember a funny thing he said right before we fell asleep:

          I'm an artist, baby. If you don't catch me in the moment, then it's gone forever.