Brain vs. Braun

I read in the paper today about a crazy biathalon that involves playing chess and boxing.
Sorry to break it to these organizers, but my son and a friend invented this sport years ago when my then 8-year-old had his first, and so far as I know, only fist fight over a chess set. He was a slender boy with long eyelashes and gold hair down to his shoulders and he played chess every Wednesday at the library. He and an older friend wandered out the back door of the library to watch for me when one of two curly haired twins snatched away the queeen of his chess set.
When threats didn't work, either my son or his friend threw a punch and the chess set was complete again. We always joked about what a dangerous sport chess was after that. Now, I can see that someone is cashing in on it.

Raspberries - My One Wish

That's when I'll know I've made it, when I can eat as many raspberries as I want. Right now, when I go to the grocery, I buy the square flat box of raspberries. What is it a pint, a half-pint? Then I bring it home and gently wash them, hoping I won't find any mold. I separate the raspberries into four tiny glass bowls (my husband doesn't like them luckily) and we sprinkle them with sugar. My 14-year-old inhales his and begs for mine. This is one thing I won't give in on. I eat my own raspberries, savoring each fresh bite.
Someday, maybe I'll get a whole bowl brimming with berries. But I have no hope of ever affording enough raspberries, or any other food, that will fill up my 14-year-old.