when life gives you cucumbers

I was reading Judith Viorst's Alexander, Who's Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Move to the boys last night. (Michael was at a  disco party in Mamaroneck).  It is the sequel to Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day, and Alexander is still extremely stubborn and his older brothers tell him to "stop being so immature" and then call him "puke face"—which of course greatly appealed to the boys' literary sensibility even though they didn't know what puke meant. "A cucumber face!" Nate said erupting into contagious giggles which sent Mack falling off his bed in hysterics. He heard "cuke face" and I let it go. I was afraid if I corrected them that they would literally never stop laughing and I would never finish the book and they would never go to bed.

Someday I'll tell them the truth.

But coincidentally, at Nate's camp which he will start in a few weeks, the different age groups are called newcomers, cucumbers, pickles, grapes and raisins. This year he will be a cucumber.

And also I bought too many cucumbers at the store this weekend so I made easy cucumber salad: slice and put in a big bowl. Then add equal parts white vinegar and water to cover. Add about 1 tablespoon of salt and 1/2 tsp of sugar per 4 cucumbers. Throw in a bunch of dill (don't bother chopping). Let sit in fridge for a few hours then drain.