Peaches and Fried Pies

I worked today, instead of tomorrow, at my boss' request, so now I have two days off before I have to return.  That's cool.  I have no plans other than whatever work on the windows and the siding I can manage.  I seriously need to make some chicken stock (to get rid of all the chicken bones in my freezer) but I can't see that happening anytime soon because to do it right, and I always do it right, requires all day simmering, which produces lots of heat and lots of steam.  Not a good plan during a week-long heat advisory, when one doesn't have air conditioning.

I have Borax strewn all around the interior perimeter walls of the house to kill whatever fleas remain.  The kitten had her flea drops almost four weeks ago, but as of last week I was still seeing a few here and there on her.  The vet said to vacuum daily for 30 days -- like that's going to happen!  Instead, I vacuumed once, then put Borax everywhere.  Life has become gritty, because even though it's only around the wall edges, I still walk there and then it gets on my bare feet and then I head for the nearest rug to get it off. And I don't even like to think where the kitten spreads it! I haven't seen anymore fleas on the kitten, so I'm tempted to vacuum it up, but it's probably best that I leave it.  Yuck!

Today at work -- or perhaps it first seeped into my consciousness last night, I'm really not sure -- I've been feeling a serious culinary pull to the little North Georgia mountain town of Ellijay, home of my favorite barbecue.  But, it's not the barbecue that's calling, it's a memory of some wonderful, ripe peaches I bought at a farm stand up there one summer after spending hours working on my trail section.  I was sweaty and filthy and hungry and thirsty and still a couple of hours from home when I passed this stand, went in and bought a basket of small but ripe peaches.  I practically inhaled them as I drove -- juice running down my face through the dirt, one after another.  Absolutely wonderful, and it's peach season, at least I hope it's the right time up there.  The same place -- at least I think it's the same place -- also has some wonderful fried fruit pies that are to die for and which I sampled on yet another trail maintenance trip.  That hard work makes you hungry!  At any rate -- I'm thinking that I need to drive up there on Saturday, stop at the Pig place for some barbecue (since I'm there, after all), then head further east for dessert and a bunch of peaches to bring home.  Sounds like a plan to me.