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.

Mid-week Index

• A tiny little kid high-fived me as I finished my last lap around Jamaica Pond tonight.
• I really, really, really wish this Julia Child movie didn’t include a blogging theme.
• On my ride home down the Southwest Corridor, I saw a couple who had tossed their bikes aside onto the grass and were rolling around smooching.
  Kind of reminded me it is, in fact, summer.
• Speaking of my ride home, a dude cut me off whose truck was wearing one of those “LOOK OUT FOR MOTORCYCLES AND SHARE THE ROAD OR WHATEVER” stickers. I was about to get huffy but when I caught up to him at the intersection, I found him singing along to “Mister Jones” at the bleeding top of his lungs, and what kind of a person could stay mad at that?
• Eating Meat for the Environment
• Ate my first fresh tomato of the season, simply wedged up with salt and pepper. Slicing it felt like I was cutting through clay; very firm. I can’t wait for the messy late-summer ones.

Buon giorno, principesa!