Last night at around sunset, I was sitting at my desk furiously typing away in a group-chatty thing with Billy, Pedro and Eartha. We were discussing the importance of being positive, how cute Billy's bum is, Eartha fielding marriage offers for my hand out of Ireland, my annoying habit of over-sharing everything (like I am doing right now) and Pedro musing he finds me perfect just the way I am (Dawwwww!) -- when movement out my office window caught my eye. A couple of the neighborhood kids and their mom decided to stop by and tour our orchard.
"Can Dash come out to play?"
They're really cute, but I'm going to have to start being all grumpy-old-man if they start eating all our fruit. "GET OFF MY LAWN, YOU NO GOOD KIDS!" like. Carrying a rifle while I say it, like.
Today Pedro went to fetch Crysta after cheerleading practice and they stopped by the Mobile Food Bank that Pedro and I were asked to visit this morning. So they came home with 50LBS of potatoes. 20+ lbs Cucumbers. 10lbs Plums. And three huge flats of strawberries! We also got a nice variety of breads. SQUEEEEE!
So we all agreed that the best way to save and preserve a ton of these strawberries was to dehydrate them and make enough strawberry chips to last us through the winter.
My house smells divine. Like what I imagine Willy Wonka's farts must smell like.
I threw some banana chips on there, too. I can't eat them, but the kids can!
Our friend Shaunee has offered to get us a bunch of dill from her cousin's farm this weekend -- and then it's on, we're making pickles. LOTS AND LOTS of pickles. Pedro knows all about making pickles, he says. Good thing, as I have no freaking idea, I says.
I also want to make jam, but I really need someone to give me a shout-out for the best price on large amounts of pectin. Anyone?
As for the plums? I have plans for the plums. But that's a whole 'nother blog post. Stay tuned.
After unloading all these fruits and veggies we finally decided to take on Direct TV and figure out why their satellite service is being all PMS'y and working when it feels like. Seriously it's like "oh you haven't watched TV in seven months? Want to watch it now? Ha! TOO BAD SO SAD!". Apparently our dish needs to be "recalibrated" to talk to the satellite again. Which essentially means they're sending someone out to give her a Midol and an attitude adjustment.
Meanwhile, the war-of-the-wasps continues. We have a new species, it's black with a white face and one white racing stripe across their back. They're really aggressive and like to bump into me when I walk out onto the back deck. I'm becoming resentful. Really resentful. I had enough of that sort of shit in junior high, ya jerks. I don't have to put up with this anymore! Well, yes, I do. But I'll figure out how to punk em back, eventually.
So yeah, that's about it. I'm sure I'll think of something else once I hit post, but for now . . . yeah that's all I got. Except the plum post. And the promised peanut-butter-oatmeal cookie recipe of Eden's. (I'm typing it Nancy, I'm typing it already!)
Farm report over.
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