Whoof! By about noon, I had walked to the farmer’s market and the Plum Market, washed two loads of laundry, changed the sheets, cleaned a bunch of floors and processed all of the produce in the second pic below plus had a batch of lasagne sauce underway to freeze for later in the summer when I’d rather sit on the beach than chop up veggies. Absolutely gorgeous morning at the market and here are some flowers.

Here’s my haul. Not in the pic? Lamb chops and a lifetime supply of Old Bay seasoning that the GG swears he’ll use (Sparrow Market), pasties (Uncle Peter), and kimchee (Wan Oo phonetic spelling). We got the kimchee free this time because we turned in three jars and Wan Oo seems to think she owes us for a jar. Or maybe two jars? I didn’t quite understand the math involved. No peas to shell today. Missing my fave new backyard zen activity.

I wasn’t the only person who worked their tail off today. While Rooooomba and I were wheeling and swinging around the inside of the house, a Chainsaw Massacre was happening in the back yard.

After a Plum Market Salad Lunch, I was casting about for something to do. I’ve been just a wee bit stalled on flinging lately. We’ve been in and out of town a lot for several months and it’s been hard to keep focused. I forced myself to go down into the Landfill Dungeon. I began by picking away at stuff, then I got into a major triaging mode. A couple bags of things to go to the Scrap Box. A few things to go to Kiwanis. Things to go into a Miscellaneous box. Like, 1) I dunno what this is, 2) This looks familiar but I dunno what it is, 3) I think this belongs with something else. This was unplanned work but at the end of it all, my beloved mother-in-law’s kitchen table is once more clear and washed down. This has happened a few times before but I don’t think I’m strong enough to remember (let alone report) how long ago the last time was.

The title? The Gumper (my father-in-law) would always say it was a work weekend whenever we arrived to spend the weekend at his Houghton Lake cabin with him. I often detected a bit of a wink in his eye, especially when he said it to his “little chickies” (aka his grandchildren, my girls anyway). Of course we helped with the work. If there is work to be done, that’s what we do. I miss The Gumper.

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