cuddlefish | Strawberries

You've seen the strawberries they sell in supermarkets, right? They're gigantic mutant monsters. Every single one looks like what should be three pieces, trying desperately to grow out and separate from one another. The insides are a sickly white, the sour stink follows me well through a mouthful of more edible food like whipped cream or cake. Partially due to strawberries, and partially due to fluoride treatments I had once or twice, I am permanently turned off by strawberries. I love the way they look on whipped cream, but after arranging them I can hardly stand to touch them.

Japan is no help, because they've decided that all cake is whipped cream and strawberries on sponge, marginalizing the chocolate cake, cheesecake and flans that are seen more often in other places (HINT). Also there isn't a person in the world who can't tell me that strawberries aren't associated with fun, youthful, feminine sexiness, so when I can't guzzle strawberries (and many other kinds of fruit) I feel like an unsexy, unfeminine, old and mean heap of shit. Only today did I realize that I will graduate from the young girl category by becoming an old hag. In fact, I probably already have and I need to stop worrying. As soon as I stop feeling like I might actually be 18 forever, okay peeps?)

But lately I think I could make peace with strawberries, even long for them when they're not available. I would like NOBODY to know that a farm in this town sells strawberries---everybody stay away and let me buy my strawberries. My town is so adorably hippie, so full of people who love the earth, who want to raise plants with pure kindness to feed whoever sees the honor-system farm stand, that they make the prettiest and cutest strawberries I ever saw. They are a rich red, some of them even red inside. They are fresh, some of them still with their stems. Over the sweet and sour smell of all strawberries, they exude the perfume of sunshine and goodness. They are still sour, but sometimes they are sweeter, and they always have a delicate fragrance I can pick up. Mutants are few, and many berries are the size strawberries are supposed to be, in the shape strawberries are supposed to be.

So, after writing three long paragraphs about strawberries because I still don't want to talk about myself: in the past couple weeks, I have made instant strawberry shortcake with store-bought pound cake, shaved ice sundae with vanilla ice cream, shaved ice, red beans, and strawberries, and crepes with strawberries. I'm making nice with strawberries, especially when they lend fragrant sourness to cream or red beans.

We have a shaved ice maker now. Shaved ice is REALLY something, even when I am only slightly hot. I really really really like shaved ice. Fluorescent green melon shaved ice is just transcendent. I like it so much that I have a bunch more syrups on the way in the mail. I'm gonna take this baby to the beach too.

Technological advances! a few years ago, I would go to the beach in Rhode Island and drop off the map for a week. Now, I'm going to take the wireless modem and communicate with my friends only somewhat less often than I would at home.

Recent game playing: after playing most of one playthrough of Vesperia, I picked up Yumeiro Patissiere DS and fell into that quite hard. Then I started working through short stories on a DS reading game. Then I decided I needed a simulation game because I've been such a good girl, and played Princess Maker 4 (still felt dirty). Now I hope I'll try some old Harvest Moon.