Smoothies & a Poem

Every morning this week has been a Smoothie morning for me and Husband. Well, this morning it was a Smoothie for me and a rush-out-the-door-in-a-big-hurry for Husband. His smoothie's in the freezer; I will have it for elevenses. Or maybe tenses.
It's fun to wake up with Husband and make him a smoothie. He's been taking a thermos of coffee to work, so he makes coffee and when that's been done I get up and make the smoothie while he dresses. Then we drink our smoothies together.
'Sfun.
Today's smoothie was exceptional because I got these insanely ripe strawberries at the farmer's market yesterday. When I got them home I understood the air of desperation that pervaded the site--everyone had strawberries to sell and everyone had to sell them yesterday if they hoped to sell them at all. I had to carve them up to put them in the smoothie this morning--they were verrrrry soft--but so red they were nearly bloody, and sweet and delicious.
I planned to skewer them along with pineapple chunks for the party we're having tomorrow. Husband's family is coming down for a graduation--his uncle is receiving his PhD!--and I planned the menu very carefully. I wanted the skewers out before lunch so people would have something healthy to snack on (besides the chips and veggie dip), and these skewers are an example of something that is greater than the sum of its parts--even if you include the actual skewers in the equation. They are elegant without being pretentious, they are portable, and they are awesome-tasting! But you need to have whole strawberries, or they at least need to look like someone didn't peel them with a hacksaw. So I guess it will be a bowl of strawberries and pineapple. The best laid plans, as they say.
Incidentally, what they say is "The best laid plans of mice and men/ often go awry." I looked up the original Robert Burns poem and will include the wacky-sounding last two stanzas, because I think they're nice. He's writing to a mouse whose nest he overturned with his plow one winter's morning. He's sorry for the mouse, but not too sorry.

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

(this is from http://www.electricscotland.com/burns/mouse.html)