I used to hate tomatoes, you know, when I was little. I even hated tomato by-products - salsa, pizza sauce. I always loved ketchup though, I couldn't figure out why, and it drove my mother crazy. Then one day I'm at this diner, and I order some turkey-something sandwich. I was tired and hungry and didn't think twice before I was halfway through my sandwich - it was so good - they must have some secret ingredient that I'd never heard of, I thought. So I pull back the top of my sourdough roll and what do I see? The same little red slices that have haunted my finicky eating my whole life. It was amazing, it was like my own personal tomato revelation.

This isn't a true story, but a monologue that I wrote a couple of years ago for no particular reason that I came across the other day. This monologue does not reflect the opinions of the author. I have yet to have a tomato revelation. It was inspired by a conversation, yeah, you remember the one.

On another note, it is a beautiful night. Perfect for reading and writing on the patio. Also, I painted tonight. I haven't done that since I was probably 9 and I tried to paint a whale. It looked more like an abstract dream-like cow.