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| Forgot to take a picture before we started eating...sorry. |
Well, some get-up-and-go, for starters. Now we're back home, I've got reports to finish up, laundry to do -- and back to work on attacking The Piles that are currently infesting the house. I spent much of the weekend processing box after box of peaches, which were more than ripe, and starting to 'go.' The Brick helped some, too. The upshot of it: we have 20 or so quart bags of chopped peaches in the freezer, 2 batches of dried peaches, plus two peach pies (1 1/4 pies -- #2 is in the freezer) and a batch of tarts (ditto).
They'll be delicious, but it took staying up until 1 a.m. or so every morning to get everything done. At least now we're caught up on episodes of The Last Ship and Fear the Walking Dead.
We brought back some boxes for various friends and neighbors, including Pastor Torrey and his wife. Sunday morning, we were peacefully listening to the sermon when he began talking about fruit. (I.e., what our actions produce in ours and other people's lives.) Suddenly, I heard my name -- he was thanking us from the pulpit for "the peaches from Palisade -- which are the best."
That was strange enough -- but happened after the service was even weirder. We had at least three people sidle up and say, "Um, those peaches from Palisade...ya got any extra? We'd like some, too."
Lesson learned: Never let your pastor peddle your peaches from the pulpit.
Two boxes are left -- but we bought those purposely green. Hopefully they'll last for another week or two, or I may just go peach-buggy. You'll find recipes, by the way, over on the Holiday Goodies blog for pie and tarts. Go here for more.
Mousey Alert: We were winning this war last month. Sort of. But while we were gone, a new family must have moved in -- we've caught at least one, and I continue to hear suspicious rattling over by the newspaper pile. The snoozing dogs seem to notice nothing. So much for guarded vigilance.
Bathrooms: Son #1 is finished with Bathroom #1 and almost done with Bathroom #2: marble, textured stone and (TA DA!) a toilet we can actually use. He just needs to move the vanity in and do the hookups, he says.
That's good, because we're almost out of money in the savings account. Bathroom renovations, no matter how carefully you plan for them, are expensive.
Bigfoot: In spite of great hopes that Son #1 would run across something (not literally!) during this year's bowhunting season... he didn't. No weird sounds, footprints, anything. I am really bummed.
General life: Charley the dog has a cold. He mopes around, even though his favorite person -- Karma, Daughter #2 and Son #1's dog -- is in residence.
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| Poor baby. |
The Brick doesn't feel that great, either. It may be a cold -- it may be just readjusting to the altitude. (We had a lot of trouble sleeping at 10,500 ft when we were camping last week...just couldn't seem to draw an easy breath.) Or it may be thinking about finances: we had to cough up more than $500 last week at the Grand Junction dealer, when the truck kept overheating. We made three separate trips to the dealer -- at a time when we should have just been luxuriating by the campsite. (On the other hand, we had several interesting conversations with people who were doing the same thing, including a guy who drove for Uber and a young couple from Quebec. (And had been sleeping in their minivan for days, while the dealer dithered on what to do.)
'Picking up strange men and women,' we called it. A new hobby.
Second lesson learned: Do not spend a day of your vacation hanging out in the RAM truck dealer's parking lot. It is not exciting, in spite of the (nice) people you may meet.
I am not that concerned. The bathrooms are paid for, and so are our bills. We still have cash in a few other accounts, and I have a few gigs coming up. If we need to pull money from retirement accounts, so be it. We'll be okay.
He still worries, though.
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| At least Karma can hold Charley's paw now and then. |
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