weekend report

I totally filched that title, you know it and I know it, so there you go.

This is my report:

The Mister went away, far, far away, to work.

The boys played in the car. I asked them nicely to get out, used the word unsafe. They got in the car again, and I yanked them out by their nostrils, pushed the lock button and slammed the door. And then stood there, like an idiot, gazing at what? Both. Sets. Of keys. YesI'mAwesome. And wait, it gets better....I was canning peaches like a fool, and had ordered pizza for dinner, and yes, I guess that makes me a walking paradox or something, and then needed to call the pizza place to cancel my pizza because I couldn't drive my car, and nobody around here delivers pizza, except that one really crappy place around the corner, and I'm not giving them $3 to drive up the street. Also awesome? Deciding against renewing our AAA membership.

Enter SUPER FATHER IN LAW, and his AMAZING AAA CARD to SAVE THE DAY!!!! Have I mentioned I really like that guy?

Dragged my pregnant self to the opening of my dear friend's art exhibit. She's been working on this FOR EVAH, and I wasn't going to miss it, despite all attempts made by my vanity to persuade me not to actually wear maternity clothing so early. Yes, I got over myself, and put on my big-belly dress. And the art was fabulous. I love photography.

Came home, blah, blah, blah, packed and went to Keuka Lake for the rest of the weekend.

I love it there. We walked down the stairs leading to the cottage, and HB said, Beaudiful Lake. The lake has a capital L because it was so clearly pronounced. We picked bushels of apples, and grapes, because it is grape season, people. And if you have never breathed in air that is thick with the scent of Concord grapes, you have never lived. I am sorry if I am the one to have to break it to you, but YOU HAVE NEVER LIVED. You must believe me. And come to New York, where the grapes are the best no matter what those snobs from Calif.... Sorry, where was I headed? Right. Come to New York and LIVE.

I picked fifty pounds of grapes for ten dollars. And that? Is a smoking deal. I should be making jam and pies and things and stuff right now, but here's the rest of my weekend update:

I have a cold and it is making me fuzzy. And where is Tom Hanks (or anybody, I'm not that picky, really) with my daisies? They are a happy flower. And the only thing I'm allowed to take that helps even a little is Benadryl. So I'm REALLY fuzzy, and not making jam. I am going to bed. Because I feel awful. And the sneezing? Well, I'm about twenty-two seconds from this.

And this is not the post I mentioned last time. I am too fuzzy to finish that, and when I'm finished being fuzzy, and have made enough grape jam to bathe a pig, you know, so it's clean enough to be lipsticked, I will return.