little italy

my next door neighbor is small italian grandma: gray wirey hair and quite the repertoire of house dresses and seersucker shorts.

me and hal were playing in the front yard yesterday when she pulled her buick up onto the sidewalk. after rummaging for a minute, she walked over to us holding two giant bottles of lemon juice.

"two eighty-nine," she said. "for two bottles!"

i smiled. "went out to sam's club again?"

she nodded. "and i've got twenty pounds of nuts!"

"do you need help carrying them in?" i asked.

"bah," she said, waving her hand at me.

"i've got eighteen loaves of zucchini bread to bake today."

our other neighbor walked up. "you're crazy, lydia," she said. "it's too hot."

"i don't even feel it," my little grandma said. "got the oven on and everything and i don't even feel it." she walked back toward her door holding a jar of lemon juice in each hand.

the next morning i found a loaf of zucchini bread neatly wrapped in wax paper, with a tiny label in curling script: milk chocolate.

the real problem

i've been thinking about this for days. (i know, i should be doing the laundry.) but what it comes down to is this: i just don't like edward. i don't think he's interesting. i wouldn't want to hang out with him for an entire saturday. i don't get chills whenever he walks into a scene.

so go ahead. enlighten me. what's so great about him?