If I were not 39 weeks pregnant, and if it had not been hovering in the high 80’s – 90’s all week until last night’s thunderstorm, I might be showing up at the table with something a little more substantial – another colorful salad, or perhaps one of the dishes I’ve been working on with spring produce from our CSA. But as it stands, nothing sounds better than a frozen drink. The kids couldn’t drink theirs fast enough, and my husband assures me this is even better with rum. I hid what little was left in the blender after serving everyone else, so I could have two glasses. Only six more days of being able to blame such behavior on the pregnancy.