It rained again this morning.
I was worried that it would rain all day and rain out Granddaughter #1's "band blowout," scheduled for 7 p.m. tonight. But the skies cleared around noon, and the performance happened as scheduled.
The high school band has been practicing for three weeks in 100-degree weather. The annual "band blowout" happens at the end of band camp, both to give the parents a sneak preview of the show and to give the kids a chance to perform in front of an audience. The show is not yet perfect, but it's coming along well. I am so proud of those kids.
We took Nanny with us to the band blowout. When we took her home, I looked toward the garden and thought about the tomatoes ripening on the vine. For the past few days, I've inspected the almost-ripe tomatoes and said, "One more day . . . ," risking being beaten to them by a raccoon or a squirrel. But tonight was the night. Even though the garden was a muddy mess, I kicked off my sandals, waded in, and picked two of the ripest tomatoes. When I gave one of them to Nanny, she said, "Oh, I don't want to take your first ripe tomato!" I said, "The one I handed you is the second one I picked, so we're good."
I kept the ripest one.
I'd cooked supper before we went to the blowout, but we decided to wait to eat afterward. While the supper warmed, I sliced that ripe tomato and laid the thick slices on our plates. Salted and peppered them.
MMMmmmmm. It was worth the wait.
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