Brats!

Ahhh! Summer in Ohio.

Skittles, recovering from the shock of learning what puberty really entails, is outside playing with some new-found friends. Nothing like the joyful noises of kids on a grassy lawn in the summer at dusk. At least until someone looses an eye.

There are cardinals chip-chip-ing in the backyard. And the sound of the dryer. I washed some towels this afternoon, and forgetting that a load does not take eight hours, left them to sit. Ooops. They passed the sniff test when I finally put them into the dryer, so hopefully crisis averted.

I took the girls to Rubino's, a local pizza place that has been an institution in the neighborhood since 1954. Baboo was underwhelmed since they do not offer ham as a topping.

"What kind of pizza place doesn't have ham?" she asked.

"But they have this incredible thin crust," I countered. "It's unusual . . . like matzo!"

"I like thick crust," she said.

Then, the non-carbonated beverage options were limited to Hawaiian Punch. She had never tasted Hawaiian Punch.

"It tastes weird," she told us.

Skittles and I both tasted it. It tasted like Fruit Juicy Red Hawaiian Punch to me. 

"It's okay," Skittles said.

Baboo continued to be cranky and pubescent. 

Fine. I spent many happy hours being cranky and pubescent in Rubino's in the mid-1970s. Next time she can just stay home.

"I'll go next door to Pizza Plus," she offered. 

Brat.

So when we got home, I put some air in my bike tires and went for a little ride. Only five miles since it was, once again, dusk. And I'm getting over a cold.

But it felt so goooooood. 

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to try my regular 20 mile route. 

Even if it kills me.