This weekend was one of those “making memories” times for our family. We decided to accept an offer from Sean’s grandfather and his wife to head up to the Masonic home where they live and do the yearly Renaissance Festival with them. Four little boys, jousting, archery, and people dressed up in helmets carrying swords–nothing could be better, right?
Actually, it really was great. I was amazed at how reasonably priced things were. My boys got to go on pony rides (C~ talked about that the rest of day–the last thing he said at bedtime was, “I rode a big horsey!”). We watched a fire eater:
We watched jousting:
W~ continued asking us where the Lamanites were. As the knights put on a sword fight at the end of the joust, W~ looked up very seriously and said, “I hope that no one ever does that to me!” Everyone standing around us started laughing. It was just too cute.
The kids shot arrows (with Sean’s help). We went on a scavenger hunt through the Masonic home that ended with them getting inflatable crowns (huge hit!).
It was a blast. The kids had fun. We had fun. And, of course, the chance to spend time with Gramps and Grandma Jean is always wonderful. I’m so glad that we went.
On the drive up, we took a little detour to stop at an apple orchard. They did it by having you buy the bags first, then go fill them. Easy enough. I thought he said they were ten pound bags, so I told Sean to buy two. About half an hour later, we had two twenty pound bags stuffed to bursting by three very enthusiastic little boys. I’m guessing that we walked out with close to fifty pounds of apples.
When we were unloading at Gramps and Jean’s house, the handles ripped out of the one bag. Apples went everywhere. We gathered them all up, but of course they were bruised. That means that we didn’t have much time to do something with all of these apples before they started going bad.
Yesterday, we made two big batches of apple sauce. Unfortunately, I turned the first batch up too high and scorched it. While still edible, it had a definite campfire flavor to it. I still planned on freezing it and marking it as desperation food storage (hey, given the financial markets around the world right now, it isn’t such a silly idea…). Then my brother-in-law came over this evening. He opened the refrigerator door, saw a huge bowl of something unidentifiable, and asked if it was leftovers (the man is a human garbage disposal). We explained what it was, and he offered to take it back to the bachelor pad if we didn’t want it. To make his point, he ate it with his dinner, passing up the second, tasty batch that the rest of us were eating.
Who can say no to that?
He is now the proud owner of a crap-load of mesquite apple sauce. I have absolutely no doubt that none of it will go to waste.
As I am writing, huge batch of applesauce number three is cooking on the stove. The dehydrator is filled for the second batch of “apple chips” (C’s name for the dehydrated slices, which he has begged me for throughout the whole day–I fear for tomorrow’s diapers). I still have a canvas grocery bag almost full of apples to be dealt with.
I’m getting a little sick of apples.