No Peak Peeps, but Maybe Apple Pies
Sheesh, people! Yes, I’m alive. It’s just that I don’t like talking about going out of town on the old blog, since it’s a good way of saying, "Hi! My apartment is empty except for a coupla felines and the occasional petsitter!" What we were trying to do was peep at leaves (fall foliage, that is). Unfortunately, much like the apple picking adventure of last weekend, it was another rain-soaked adventure. No nature drives. No hiking in the woods. Luckily, the B&B in New Hampshire was lovely. We read by the fire, played board games, and did our damndest to relax. We did an OK job, too.
Not much going on with us now that we’re back, except we napped much of the afternoon, and we have to get moving on all these apples before they are no longer usable. Luckily, I picked up this cookbook at our stop at Cracker Barrel on the way up (yes, they actually have a few of those up here!):
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Update: They weren’t kidding about MacIntoshes being mushy when you cook them. I made some crumble last night, and BLECH! The applesauce I made afterwards was lovely though.
Man, it was good. I feel HUGE! It’s much better for my weight that I get out of here. I’ve gained about 10 pounds since I arrived, and I fear that trend would continue. While I was waiting for her to run my credit card on my takeout order, I was looking at the Flyer. "ATTENTION ELVI," it said. Apperantly, if you dress like Elvis, you get free food at several local eateries. Very strange stuff. See, this is my first August here, so it’s my first Elvis Week. I didn’t know stuff like this happened. 
Eric came in right about then, and we chatted about how Elvis fans are dying off, and the people who make their living on all things Elvis are going to really hurt financially. How it’s this industry in Memphis. I guess that’s true. What a strange in
dustry indeed. So Eric was talking about how they’ll do anything to create younger Elvis fans. We also talked a little about Hustle and Flow, which I still haven’t seen. I know, I’m lame. On the way out, these two women in a car said, "Excuse me! What’s your tattoo?"The woman on the driver’s side said, "Is it a butterfly?" I told her that it wasn’t; it’s a sun. The woman on the passenger side by the curb said, "TOLD YOU!" I chatted with them a little while longer, then drove home, and that’s when all that inhaling stuff started.