The Pits

There are a lot of cherries in one of those pails.  How do I know?  Well, I spent the afternoon pitting all those cherries, one by one, and it took hours.  Then I layered them in a big bowl with granulated sugar and went to the store to buy Sure Gel and lids for the jars that I plan to fill either tomorrow but more probably on Saturday.  Cherry preserves.  Yum.





The young Orioles are still visiting for a grape jelly snack...



 


I happened to see a Hummingbird visiting the hanging basket of lantana outside the kitchen window... (it's that slanted shape on the far left side of the plant, darned screen)






 
and the Downy Woodpecker visited the platform feeder instead of the suet.






 


On Sunday, BV, TW, and I stopped at the Island Orchard Cider place.  I thought that I'd have a taste but ended up with a full, juice-size glass of the Apple Ginger Cider.  It was good, not as gingery as I thought it'd be, but took a sip of BV's Pear Cider.  Oh it was good, so good that I bought a bottle.  I plan to take it to DS's next time I go for supper to share with them.  Because I'm just that nice.





On my way home yesterday I saw this hybrid vehicle sitting by the sawhorses blocking off Broadway for the Wednesday evening Farmer's Market.  It's painted half like a squad car and half like a taxi cab.  On the side is painted "pick your ride."  Clever and effective.






T the trainer had me lifting a 10# weight.  It looks easy, doesn't feel like it, especially the third time around.  And don't I look cute?  Except for the sweaty part.




 
01 August--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

              Clara and I were sitting over cups of coffee in her kitchen when we heard the sound of a familiar brown delivery truck pull up.

            “I’ll bet that’s the Avon stuff Jean said she was sending,” said Clara.

            We heard a knock on the back door and Clara called, “We’re in the kitchen, Harry.  Bring it on in, will you, please?”

            The screen door opened and heavy footsteps crossed the back hall.

            “Harry’s off today.  I’m Justin.  Will I do?” said a deep voice.

            We turned expecting to see our old friend and neighbor, but saw instead a pair of laughing brown eyes and dark brown hair topping a gorgeous, muscular body.

            “Uh, that’s fine,” stammered Clara, taking the small package and setting it on the table.  She reached to sign the board accepting delivery without ever taking her eyes off his face.

            Justin touched a finger to his forehead, said, “You ladies have a nice afternoon,” and left the way he had come.

            Both of us almost fell off our chairs enjoying the view of Justin walking away.  We sat in silence listening to the truck drive off. 

            “Oh my God, Clara, that was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

            “Did you see his eyes?” Clara asked, her hand on her heart.  “I bet he’d look great in one of those tiny Speedo swimsuits.  I’d pay money to see that.”

            “Me too.  Is there such a thing as a group hot flash?”  I picked up my napkin and fanned my face.  “Did they even make men like that when we were younger?”

            “When I met Hank he was all tanned and muscular from working on the farm but, Gail, he never had that devilish look in his eyes.  Well, maybe once or twice…”

            “Clara, you are so naughty!  Bert worked hard all his life and had nice muscles too, but he never ever looked at me like that young man just did.  Do you think he was flirting with us?”

            “Oh, I doubt it.  We probably looked like two pole-axed cows and he was laughing at us.  We’re way too old for a hunky, young guy like that to flirt with.  Now I can guarantee you that Abel is flirting with you every time you see him.”

            “Do you think so?  I have to admit he is kind of cute.  I especially like his hands.”  I rested my chin in my hand and thoughts of how it would feel to have Abel touch me floated through my head.

            Clara cleared her throat.  “Gail, if you’ve finished with your coffee, maybe you’d like to be alone with your thoughts?”  And she smiled the annoying smile of an old friend who can see what’s on your mind.

            I could feel myself blushing.  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Clara, I was just…  You’re right, I was thinking about Abel.  He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.  I should go out with him just to get him out of my way.”  The smile left my face and a frown took its place.  “Do you think he’s a stalker?”

            Now Clara really laughed.  “Gail, get a grip.  We live in Kingman, Wisconsin.  It’s so small it barely qualifies as a town.  Of course, you’re going to run into Abel here and there.  There are only so many places to go around here.  Besides, everybody knows everybody else, and knows everybody’s business, too.  You can bet Mr. Baker’s got his spies just like we do.”

            “I guess you’re right.”

            “So, do you think Justin the delivery man is new in town or just a replacement?  He sure is cute.  Maybe I should engineer a meeting between him and Sharon.  You know, her last boyfriend turned out to be a shiftless bum.”

            “I don’t know, Clara,” I teased.  “Would you ever be able to talk to him or would his gorgeous self strike you permanently dumb the way it did today?”

            “Gail!  Some friend you are,” Clara retorted.  She turned and pulled a scissors out of a drawer.  “Let’s see what Jean sent.”  We got interested in sniffing and trying on all the goodies Clara’s daughter-in-law had put in the box and the memory of the hunky UPS guy faded—a bit.

Dagnabbit, it's nearly midnight again.  No wonder I fell asleep in mid-cherry-pitting this afternoon.  Good night.
--Barbara