Not a recipe.

We did go pick blueberries yesterday at a U-Pick-It place. We got there at 8:30. A. M. There were already a considerable number of people there, some of them checking OUT as we were checking in.

Charlie wore his Fathers Day hat and called the daughters who chipped in for it to thank them expressly for “a great blueberry-picking hat”.

We each picked a gallon of blueberries, and shared them with the girls. Didn’t share any with Mom, because she went with us, as did our friend Ardis, and they each picked a gallon, too. I think we each ate a gallon, while we were at it.

We had blueberry pancakes for breakfast–more honestly, we had fried blueberries held together with a little batter. I didn’t even use syrup; the blueberries were sweet enough by themselves. I don’t generally care for just plain blueberries, but these are SO SWEET!

I had many weird dreams last night. In one of them, I was in a car, backing up and turning, repeatedly and successfully, in a street packed with cars and trucks. I don’t know what that signifies, but it has to be good. In another one, I was walking through a restaurant and a rap song was blasting about the craziness of the American gun culture. When I got outside, a guy was holding up a family including a baby in the baby-seat of a grocery cart. Even the baby had its little hands up. It came out okay, but I don’t remember how. Maybe I backed into him, I don’t know.

Blueberry Dreams would be a great name for a recipe, wouldn’t it? Or a soft-rock singing group? Actually, I was thinking of calling this post Blueberries and Guns, which sounds like a heavy metal band headed by Violet Beauregarde and Mike TV from “Willy Wonka“. OMG–Check out this “where are they now” article!

MA

writing prompt: Send a character to a u-pick-it place where he/she runs into someone or something unexpected amongst the crowd or in a lonely row.

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