We have, as I may have mentioned, several apple trees in the garden. The apples aren’t really ripe yet, but a lot of them are cooking apples that aren’t going to be any good to eat straight off the tree anyway, so yesterday we had an apple picking party and the family came out to play in the garden and pick apples and eat apple pie (made, yes, from garden apples. I forgot to take a picture but it was lovely and tasty!). Hail, hail, the gang’s all here! Indy…
Woe, our guest has had to return home, but she has left us with many smiles and funny memories. The other night she cleared her plate from the table, then returned to the dining room, where she picked up a napkin and wrung it as she gazed indecisively at our plates. Ted said, in the driest and most certain tone ever, “You’re procrastinating. Go work on your thesis.” She said, “I’m NOT! I’m trying to be a good guest!” Ted said, “I’m married to a writer and you’re procrastinating. Go…
Iiiiiii have made an aaaaaaamaaaaaaazing batch of strawberry rhubarb jam. Ted, who likes zingy strawberry/rhubarb jam, thought there wasn’t enough rhubarb in mine generally, so I did half and half instead of favouring the strawberries, and it’s rrrrrrrrrrrrrreeaaaaaaaaaallllly good. I used jam sugar because I didn’t have enough regular sugar, and I thought I might have a little too much s/r for a kilo of jam sugar, which is often soft anyway. So I took what I’ve learned about unripe apples and got one and chopped it up and threw…
I dreamed I was trying to deal with our book collections, and found not one, but *two* copies of author Robin McKinley’s (obviously, from 1. the well-read condition of the books, and 2. their (differing) covers) 1980s-era fantasy novel ONCE UPON A TIME, and the fourth, interstitial (it fit between books 1 & 2), book of Pamela C Dean’s Secret Country trilogy. *grabby grabby grabby hands* I would pay good money to go back into that dream and read those two books cover to cover…
I am, for all of you who have asked, much better today, thank you. Muuuuuuuuuuch better. Apparently I alarmed my poor husband, because he did come home to get Indy from school, and when he arrived home I was sleeping on the couch and he couldn’t remember the last time I was sick enough to give up trying to push through and just went to sleep on the couch. Evidently he went back to work and told people I’d been sleeping on the couch and they said “so?” and he…