TheLindsayist

Tomatina West

Red Fire Farm’s Tomato Festival was Saturday. No splashing in pureed tomatoes, but the intermittent downpours made certain it was still a sloppy time. Rusty Belle from Amherst covered “Cry to Me” by Solomon Burke, one of my favorite songs, just as the sky opened up and the crowd rushed under the tent with them. Tim and I huddled under our umbrella with a slice of grilled pizza.

Bloggy blog blogosphere.

I’ve been trained in brevity by Twitter and messageboarding. The last time I had a blog, it was full of garbage about getting dressed up for the Pill. I deleted it. Lucky for you, I’m older and more provincial now.

Let’s see. I feel fortunate to have found myself working on a profoundly engaging race that captures my imagination and keeps me awake at night. That is the best kind of work.

As of today, I’ve lost fifty pounds since the start of my drive to look a bit less Stay-Puft. It’s put a crimp on my culinary endeavors – I didn’t renew my Cook’s Illustrated subscription, for example – but I have begun recording recipes again since the farmshare calls for resourcefulness. Sizewise in visual terms, that’s about the size of this fresh catch:

bigfish