After looking at those pictures of those gorgeous strawberries, you might think that's why I asked that question. Not so much. You see this morning, before work (go me!) I went and picked those lovely things at my childhood friends father's berry patch. They are DELICIOUS. You kinda forget how "real" strawberries are supposed to taste after a winter of the ones in the plastic crates.

Anyways, back to the bit about heaven. When you pick strawberries at someone's field at the peak of season you are inevitably going to be picking next to someone. And that's just fine and dandy.

However, at 7:30 a.m. when I'm enjoying some relaxing strawberry picking, I honestly don't want to hear the question, "Do you believe in heaven?" from the man picking next to me. I have no way to get out of the situation. While he was certainly a lovely and kind man, I just thought, "Heaven, help me." That's probably wrong, right? Seriously, though, where did that question even come from? Sigh. I wonder if my blue toes and accidentally low cut top made it look like I needed saving.