tomatoes vs. nature

I have tomatoes waiting for me.  

They are desperate to be made into something worthy of preserving, becoming softer with every second that I procrastinate them.  Their enemies, the fruit flies, lots of little, tiny fruit flies, are thankful for every second that they have with them.  

(Gross.)

I did tackle a box of them today.  They are on their way to be salsafied.  

One small bucket to go.  I don't mind doing it really, it's just that 

I     r e a l l y   w o u l d   r a t h e r   b e   

 o u t     

 t    h    e    r    e 

. . . . . .

or in there.

. . . .

If you only knew how fresh and yummy it smelled out there.

And in there.

If you could only see how cute my little guys get when they really want their mama to be right with them.

Soooo dang cute.

And charming,

and sweet, 

and, basically, irresistible. 

(I give in almost every time.)

. . . . . .

If you could only know what it feels like with the sun pouring down on you.

And feeling the air getting warmer with every minute.

 You'd want to be out there, too. 

Eating

(even if it meant dealing with 3 kitties trying to steal your grub),

 playing, 

tickling,

reading books, 

coloring,

 anything.

You'd want to stick those tomaters in the fridge, too, and tell them to just hold their horses because it won't be like this for too much longer outside.

50's are in the forecast for the weekend.

Really?

Really.

When it is nice outside and I am inside doing stuff, I get so restless and start breathing fast and I can't handle it.  Honestly.  It's weird.  I get sort of ADD and can't focus on what I'm doing and end up doing a bad half job.  

(I think that something is wrong with me.)

Yeah, so I'm calling it.

Best put the tomatoes to chill for a bit and spend my time outside.

I don't want to have any regrets.

You wouldn't either.

Right?