We decided to joy-ride the ferry around lunchtime on Saturday, thinking we'd be back in time for Shmoogie's nap. Five hours later, we'd done the ferry round trip, picked a gallon of strawberries on the other side, and Mr. Right had registered to run a half marathon the next morning.
It's kind of a complicated story, so I'll just say that real just-picked strawberries are amazing, roasting the just-too-ripe leftovers is a brilliant idea (thank you, Martha Stewart), and Mr. Right is, astoundingly, still walking around like a normal person after finishing the run in less than three hours.