I just ate a mealy apple. It was a Golden Delicious and I should’ve known better because they tend to get mushy. Yesterday I had a Gala apple that was sweet and fresh and crisp. Galas are my favorite. And despite yesterday’s confessions, I’d like to note that I did pay for both apples.
When you were little, did you ever twist off your apple stem and recite letters of the alphabet for each turn? The letter you landed on when the stem came off was supposedly the first letter of the name of the boy you’d end up with. Today I got G. Greg? Grady? Garett? George?
In an effort to conserve energy, a Minneapolis-based blogger I follow recently vowed not to turn on the heat in her house until November. I’ve lived through the icy hell of a Minnesota winter so I know what a genuine sacrifice her’s is. Given that I’m living in a much more hospitable clime, I figured the least I could do was wait until November to turn my heat on too. Once over the weekend I was tempted to buckle, but I sucked it up and piled on an afghan.
Moxy and I carved Obama-logo jack-o’-lanterns [PDF] this weekend although mine ended up looking like it had been sabotaged by a communist sympathizer. When we finished, we went outside to light them but the wind was too strong to keep any candles lit. We plan to try again this week and I’ll be sure to take pics so you can behold our artistry.
I saved all the seeds from our pumpkins and roasted them with olive oil, rosemary, and thyme last night. They’re tasty but it’s pretty much impossible to get one out of its shell and those shells are way too fibery to tolerate. Abby seems to like them but bear in mind that she loves nothing more than snuffling around dumpsters for delectable discarded morsels.