Magical Mystery Tour

My goodness. I could be reprimanded for blogging ‘dereliction of duty’ and would have to bear it without complaint, because it’s absolutely true.

I plead guilty, but guilty by reason of a surfeit of pleasurable distractions.

I have visited the closely realated peeps and been fed divine foods. S. and I went to visit my spinning and knitting mentor and bestowed upon her the little felted sheep that I made, plus the coveted collection of old Ladies Home Journals which she was delighted with. Have dipped my feet in the healing waters, which by the way are colder than I remember. I have helped feed horses, care for chickens, can pears, snap green beans, pick tomatoes the size of softballs, and create a small series of paper projects, plus one thank you card to the groomer that transformed my filthy beasts into civilized hounds in a matter of hours. And I have taken a driving tour with my SIL circumnavigating the entire valley.

I’ve been busy!

But busy in a way that confirms my areas of competence. [I could have sworn that competence was spelled competance, but alas the dictionary says differently.] I am having to use the paper version of the dictionary, because I am not using my own familiar programs and don’t know where to find the spell checker on this one.

Oh how dependent I am on spell chick!

(I think you mean check Cupcake.)

The Hen might beg to differ, but she isn’t here to protest. She’s out hob nobbing with her fellow wizards, I mean flock mates. One of which is busy laying an egg which I observed when I opened the chicken house door to let them out this morning.

I’m playing housekeeper today as my host has decamped to work, which entails hiking up a trail to check on the condition of the mountain meadows where the cattle graze to make sure they aren’t doing TOO good a job of mowing the grass.
Nice work if you can get it.

Though it won’t be the best of days for hiking, as a gentle storm [so far] has moved in and there’s a steady drizzle outside. My job is to have dinner ready when she gets home. Lucky for me, we have leftovers from the aforementioned divine foods.

Life is good.

I go home in the morning, where life is good too. Just in a different way. Less wild, but more challenging for me in many ways.

I guess I feel more comfortable with chicken poop stuck in the soles of my boots, than negotiating Sunrise Blvd at four in the afternoon of a friday before a holiday weekend. You know what I mean?

(For once, I think I do.)

Anyway, my batteries are recharged, my psyche is now alligned properly, and my body is tuned up from a lot of serious purposeful walking.

Time to pack up and take these gifts home where I intend to bake some world class bread. Heck, I might even surprise Mr. Hub Man with a Lemon pie before the week is out.

But till then, excuse me, the fire needs stoking.