Just before he left office, the prior mayor of Sacramento had a pie pushed in his face by a protestor. This is evidently a punishable crime. Personally, I like pie in my face. In, I say, not on. I like pie warm from the oven, but I like it even better for breakfast the next day. It's about the only thing I will eat in the morning. And it's not bad for lunch, either. Pie doesn't keep well and it would be such a shame to let it go to waste. (I'm very good at rationalization.)
I'm beginning to feel like a weather reporter. Not that it's all that interesting, but the weather has such an impact on life here, dictating what can and should be done on any given day. The deltas made it all the way up here and it was a good ten degrees cooler yesterday. I've been waiting for the right conditions to dust the house. Not the furniture, the house. The vinyl siding collects dust like a magnet and the front porch was an especial mess. It was a perfect day to hose it down and the dust washed off in dirty waves. I did get a number of sundry chores done, but that was the most satisfying.
I wasn't the only one ready for a sit-down in the afternoon. I love it that my companions are best friends. Celeste had cleaned Bessie's face before snuggling up back to back.
It was a good day.
1 comment:
Ah, I'm glad to know that the rest of your pie didn't have to wait too long to be enjoyed in its fresh goodness!! Glad your heat is subsiding. Darn cool down here - May Gray in full force!
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