"Just what all did y'all have at the picnic? I see what look like tomatoes (unless they are strawberries), but I'm having trouble identifying the other foods. English peas? Chick peas? Apple pie? Potatoes? Corn fritters? Inquiring minds want to know."
I started to reply in the comments section, but when my response began to reach 'post' length -- well, here you are:
That was not my picnic, not my photo. In other words, I have no idea. The photo is as close as I could find on the Internet of a plate that's running over -- the way I felt when I got home last evening. These days, I don't handle very well any interruptions to my normal routine. Can I say "set in my ways?" Or, worse: "Lazy?"
In the past ten years of retirement, I have become a creature of habit and voluntary solitude, which I choose to call 'Peace and Quiet'; not necessarily a good thing. I would be perfectly content to follow the same (slothful?) routine day after day after day, doing only what suits me -- when it suits me. I never (or hardly ever) protest anyone's request for my time and efforts, if asked; I just don't handle it very well after the fact.
Granddaughter is still sick, still hospitalized, without a conclusive diagnosis. The physicians will not release her until she is able to retain some nourishment, preferably some solid food, which she has been unable to tolerate (read: keep down) for almost three weeks. Her mother, Gardening Daughter, is almost at wits-end. I know that you're a praying person; please add Jessica M. to your prayer list, and add her almost frantic parents, too.
In the absence from home of Gardening Daughter and son-in-law, who are taking turns at the hospital so as to have one of them with her 24 hours a day, I am pulling more than the usually-sporadic Sweetie-duty. While I love my granddaughter dearly, it's been a long time since I've had to spend more than a couple of hours at a time in full charge of a six year old who has enough energy to wear the horns off a brass billy goat. "Please sit down and be still for a while" is not on her agenda, as it should not be on mine. Ah, well. What doesn't kill me will make me stronger, or so I've heard.
If I feel like my plate is currently too full, I also remember that "my cup runneth over," but that's another thing entirely, for which I'm very thankful, and which makes my perceived overly-full plate a pauper's portion in comparison.
Tomorrow is also a day.