Peruvian Ragamuffin

We set up scaffolding on Saturday morning to put in new ceiling fans and make ceiling repairs which involved putting many men I care about up so high that it made my toes hurt to even look. Instead of hanging around with aching toes, I gathered up my Mom and Ella and we went to the apple orchard. We bought pumpkins, fed the animals, ate popcorn and apple donuts, sat on tractors and drank hot cider. I didn’t bring a warm enough coat for Ella so I wrapped her up in my scarf. She looked like a little Peruvian Ragamuffin. She stood there shivering and asking “More goat?” I figured she wouldn’t get frostbite so we stayed out till my chin was numb. Indulgent you say? Well, I didn’t go to the apple orchard to JUST buy over priced pumpkins. (Actually mom bought).





















The Casseroles had a fine meeting on Saturday night, although the consensus is the microbrewery we went to serves beer that guarantees a headache. Too bad cause their stout tastes great. We had lots of top secret Casserole discussions including “What we call our most sacred fleshy bits”, “I have a gay relative”, and the very popular “What my husband is secretly hoping we are doing tonight i.e.: ‘stripping classes’, ‘cat fight involving beer and white t-shirts’, and the ever coveted ‘we are too drunk so all the ladies came home with me for a pillow fight and sleep over’”. That’s all I can tell you about the night without being stripped of my Casserole status.














Sunday was spent cleaning with above mentioned headache. There we’re paint chips everywhere and dust on every surface. I’m still re-vacuuming today so that in the future if I have to ask Ella “What exactly were you thinking when you filled the neighbor’s roller skate to the brim with lotion?” I’ll know it wasn’t because she ate paint chips when she was a baby it’s just because my Mother hoped I had a child just like me. (Hi Mom! I still have your pumpkin in my trunk)