Belle and I ate fruit all Saturday morning: bananas, dried figs, grapefruit and oranges. I finally had the luxury of making myself some coffee after many, many days, only to discover that the little bit left in the bag was the last. We shared a bath, during which I awkwardly, albeit successfully, washed my hair. Later we walked to a park we rarely venture out to. Belle fell asleep in the push chair en route and woke up about as soon as we started heading home. She never saw the park behind her, nor did she smell the barbecue being made in the farthest corner. I smelled every rose on the walk home and talked to strangers.
I warmed a late lunch comprised of leftovers at home: broiled salmon, fried potatoes, garlic sauteed kale and an asparagus, carrot, mushroom and onion saute. Belle threw a massive fit and threatened to feed the salmon to the floor. I quickly scrubbed the smallest sweet potato and baked it as Belle cried. She calmed down, ate most of the sweet potato and ignored the rest. A low key afternoon allowed Belle to turn in by early evening. She woke up briefly a few hours later and ate the last of the honey roasted peanuts.
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