Unfortunately, I think I'm now an adult

In case you clicked because you know me and might worry a bit about the title of this post, let me start by saying, "I'm sorry. I kinda tricked you. It's called click-bait for a reason." This post contains many things, but the bottom line is that I am no worse off than usual, and am not in any danger of self-harm. Now onward to The Saga of the Kidnapped Tomato! So last summer, I got the harebrained  scheme to try and grow stuff.  I say it in this fashion because my forte has usually always run more along the lines of plant homicide by neglect, but I figured that, since my health makes me housebound more frequently than not these days, I maybe stood a chance of being here to tend to growing things.  So I planted a few seeds, and tried my best to remember them, and then failed most of them in spectacular fashion.  I may have been less than 50 feet away at all times, but they still died outside and inside my house like I was doing it on purpose.  Except for one...

So, today is my birthday, and--to be clear--the title of this post is not out of sorrow. I legitimately am not wanting cake. Seriously. I have pudim de leite condensado (aka flan) instead, by choice. You see, with the various events that occurred in July (Pictures below), I personally made and frosted (all from scratch) over 380 cupcakes and additional regular cakes. I'm done. No more cake. We received a group from the companion diocese of Indianapolis, there was the anual diocesan fundraiser to support the newest Anglican Social Center (ASC) in Filadelfia (I work at the one in Pedregal), and the whole church (pretty much) celebrated the 15th birthday of one of the girls I work with (BIG deal, see pictures). Then, after all that, I went to Rio for the Olympics. Even if I didn't have a condition that caused fatigue, I have plenty of other reasons to be justifiably tired. But there are still some exciting things ahead for me. I am hopeful that my personal knowledge of this ...