I just realized we're all nuts, including me

I walked in--I'd gone to see my friend and her baby--just as a family friend had popped in to share in mom's mushroom collection.

Mom: She's driving me up the wall with her whole grains. Do you know how much I've heard about barley?
L.: What barley?
A.: I'll show you. Mom, where did you put the barley?
Mom: It's insanity. One thing I'll say though is that her skin is amazing.
L.: It is.
A.: Then let's stop making a fuss of the lack of dairy.
L.: How do you know it's lack of dairy, rather than the barley?
A.: I suspect it's a combination of both, but the lack of dairy has been the constant. When I traveled for work--or even here (who am I to turn down dolma)--I've let go as needed on the whole grains--albeit not on the added sugar--but I haven't had dairy except a trace amount on the business trip.
L.: How do you get enough protein?
A.: Whole grains, seeds--do you know that pumpkin seeds have 8-10 grams of protein per serving? Hulled barley had 7 or so.
L.: I think I need to get going--I'm having trouble taking in so much practical information.
Dad: How's M.?
A.: Good. Baby's good.
Mom: She had us go to the hospital in the snow storm. Of course, we had to get birdfeed. But she bought $200 worth of seeds--all sorts of vegetables.
A.: $30.
Mom: She'll need acres.
A.: I have containers.
Mom: We've a houseful of roasted vegetables. It's insane.
A.: Oooh, want to try some kabocha? Take some home for Maya, too.
Mom: Oooh--let me show you the pressure cooker. And let me show you how well the beets turned out in it. Where'd I put the beets?
A.: I put them in my fridge. But do tell me where you put the hulled barley and the oats.
Mom: Where are the beets?

Once I've packaged some kabocha for L., I find the beets. And start snacking on one.

Dad: Um, we have a visitor.

In the living room, there's a spider hanging from its own thread.

Dad: I hope it's not a black widow or something.

A.: Ooh! I'm going to take a picture. There's a pet setting on my new camera.

I was struggling to get to the pet setting with one hand.

A.: Here, hold my beet.
Dad: [Sigh] Finish your beet and then take the picture.

I stuck the beet in my mouth--must have looked like a suckling pig--and proceeded to photograph the spider.

Mom: Someone should be taking a picture of you.

I hand the camera to dad and instruct him to continue to document the spider's exploits. I continue to snack on the beet.

L. takes off. I feel no guilt blogging rather than getting ready for our walk, because I know that it will take at least this long for my parents, who are "ready," to get their act together. I'm about right, but now it's time to get ready. Ciao for now.