At the Table all Day

My house still smells like 550 degree roast chicken and the windows have been open for two days. I made chicken salad for Mary Mom Calhoun and she loved it. I left a bunch for her. She loves my use of onion. She too loves raw onion, hot sauce and sucking on lemons.

What would Chinese medicine acupuncturists say about sweet people liking fermented and sour things. It makes sense.

John's Rathbun street apples were fantabulous. He said "help yourself" He knows the pear tree guy too. He said he works for public works running the street cleaners. I want to run a street cleaner and drive a Zamboni too.

Hail to our marvelous town!

I might go back with a ladder and my wooden red wagon--I need an apple picking stick or a chistera like jai alai or whatever that game is. John said otherwise they'll all go into the dumpster.

I can't climb ladders, I get dizzy.

I am addicted to the local throw away harvest.

I hear there's such thing as a sauerkraut pierogi--sold at the Polish deli around the corner. Wow, it takes a local to tell me what is right under my nose. I am always a tourist in my town. I must try this and learn to make them. I love sauerkraut.

Yesterday we drove with Lily and our picnic baskets, to see Mary Mom Calhoun. We made her brunch: bacon and eggs my applesauce buttermilk sourdough pancakes, John's golden delicious apples, my home made molasses granola, and my home made chicken salad. A feast. She is 81 and so sweet and glad for the company. We stayed at the table all day, just like my childhood Sundays. Bring back the feasting storytelling Sundays. I was sound asleep at 7PM.