Yucky Blueberries! Bleahhhhhh!

Good day today. I got to spend time with one of my dear friends, although she was not in much of a mood to enjoy it. She didn't feel well at all. Still, we had a long drive and plenty of time to talk.




I love blueberries. Of all the fruits in all the world, I have a passion for little, blue berries that grow wild in Northern Minnesota and other parts of the country with the right climate and soil pH. When summer comes around, I eagerly anticipate finding boxes of blueberries at the grocery store. Last year, I was so excited about finding five pound boxes of them for $5 that I nearly made my family crazy with talking about it. (Sorry, family. I'm getting over it, I think.)

One year, the year this picture was taken, I had done my usual crazy buying of blueberries, followed by many bowls of blueberries, cream, and sugar, and making things out of blueberries. This particular day, Sian, Gabrielle, Husband, and I had run some errands. It was summer, and it was hot. On our way back home, the girls tired and quiet in the back seat, we pulled up to a stoplight (and I can still remember exactly which one), and Gabrielle suddenly shouted, "Yucky blueberries!" and then vomited all over herself and the leather seats in our Buick Park Avenue. Sian looked at her with surprise, then vomited all over herself and the leather seats. Then Gabrielle vomited again. Husband and I watched in horror. There was nothing we could do, stuck as we were in the middle of traffic, and certainly with an inadequate amount of cleaning supplies to take care of that stinking mess. Looking at each other, we burst out laughing. I glanced over at the car next to us, and laughed even harder. There were about three or four people in that car and they had all seen everything. Their faces looked back at me in mute appeal and nausea. They probably thought we were the worst parents in the world for laughing at our sick little children.

By the time we got home the girls were fine, but the car smelled awful. I took the girls inside and got them cleaned up and dressed in dry clothes and Husband put on a determined face while getting a bucket to clean the car. Thankfully, leather seats clean up easily.

My girls love that story. They have asked me to tell it a hundred times. And I'm reminded of it every time I buy blueberries. I guess all things are better in moderation.