Luke is totally freaked out by, and I am totally amazed at, all the squirrels scurrying across our pool cover.
(I'm also amazed I used the correct prepositions--a rare feat)
They are carrying frozen black balls in their tiny little mouths, which I realize are frozen pears from my next door neighbor's tree.
The foodie in me worries:
Aren't these pears much more appetizing when they're thawed?
Are the sons and daughters ever disappointed with what their parents worked so hard to get? "Ugh..not again, Mom!..More frozen pears?"
What if they actually don't LIKE pears?
I myself like them enough, but I'm not all that CRAZY about them where I could eat pears and nothing else.
Why do I care so much about what squirrels eat?
"Squirrels" would make a great Scrabble word, and you could get a "bingo" for playing all seven tiles if one of the letters was already on the board.
Why am I spending so much time writing about squirrels and pear trees?
If there were a partridge in one, would it be edible? A nice change for Sunday dinner with the family? Some real protein?
Why am I such a worrier..and such a foodie?
Do I worry because I eat..or do I eat because I worry?
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