We just returned from a week away at my parent's house in B.C. I'm glad you liked the dress because I wore it twice in that week, which makes it a gigantic success in Melissa Terms. Plus, I have another one ready to go that I'm going to try and line. Oooh-Whee.
So yes, a week away, in part for my sister's wedding (of which I have no pictures) and because we finalized Manny's adoption earlier last month and finally got his traveling papers (more on that later). Instead of beautiful bride pictures-- of which I should have plenty-- I have pictures of beautiful cherries. Two varieties-- both lovely, and both producing more than 120 people marching around the yard could eat in a weekend.
Between wedding prep, rehearsal dinner and post-game gift opening, people stood around eating and spitting. Loads of my new brother-in-law's family and friends were in town and some of them had never eaten the fruit off the tree before. Then, when everyone left, it was time to get serious about picking. And trying to moderate the small children and their intake. But mostly, picking and pitting.
The night before we left my dad pulled out a pitter (or stoner) that they had acquired from an old family friend. It was made in West Germany (Westmark brand) in the 60s (I think). I tried looking for it online and came across similar, but less impressive models. Apparently Westmark is still in the stoner business and that Germany has a corner on the market, as my search didn't get serious until I searched the term Kirschentkerner.
See what I mean? Not messing around. The first thing I said was something like, "that thing would eat Amy's for lunch", which prompted Paul to get out the Flip. I didn't realize he was filming so that is my dorky voice talking to my dad about 1. a rickety swing in the backyard, and 2. making baby voices at my tiny nephew. That last bit is a scary shot of Paul's nostrils and bloodshot eyes. Again, you're welcome.
