Just Peachy

Deja vu with a twist.  There were strawberry fields and a stand on Steve's road to work, and one summer he stopped and picked up a couple of baskets on the way home, suggesting I make a strawberry shortcake.  I did, and it was pretty darned good, so good that he stopped again and bought a half-flat.  Okay, more shortcake.  Steve did nothing by halves, so the next time it was a whole flat.  By the time we'd gone through that, I had developed a strawberry rash and had to call a halt.

George had messaged me before his last visit, asking if I'd like more peaches.  Well, of course!  These juicy orbs fresh from the orchard are so much better than any that could be bought in the store, how could I refuse?  Peach season doesn't last forever, after all.  This being the third flat, while I don't have a peach rash, I've taken to cutting up the fruit to freeze because it's been too darned hot to bake pies and I wouldn't want to waste a morsel because there are just so many one can eat before the fruit goes soft.  I am imagining hot peach pie on a cold winter's night.  Yum!

Never one to watch daytime soap operas, I've become a political news junkie.  Between the pandemic and politics, I've never lived through times like these, and yesterday was a good example.  I'm glad I'm out of it.

WiFi is quite wonderful, until it isn't.  There was a glitch in the system yesterday, sending the computer into a tizzy and cutting off service to my cellphone.  I made the call (I keep a landline) and was connected to a trainee.  The one thing she'd absolutely learned was the word "ma'am," which she used to distraction.  I don't think she knew I could hear her mentor coaching her.  After trying this, that, and the other thing, there was a pause.  "Oh, ma'am, I just got an email saying they are upgrading the system."  It was all for naught, because all the lights on the WiFi came back on and it was all good.  Wasn't that just peachy.

Stay safe.  Be well.