Smoked ham ... our official scent of the season.
The big fella took the reins today, my turn yesterday while he cut hay. The intricacies of the smoking machine a fine match for those of the Acco gearbox, there are just some skills in life I'm sure I can live without. The steel handle in his grasp the controlling factor in how much air is allowed entry to the fire, and thus what level of smoke is created and temperature generated. It mightn't be rocket-surgery, but it's close.
The teenager finishes school this Friday. With an assignment due tomorrow and four exams before Wednesday, she had a little light reading to catch up on this weekend.
Jess and Wallace are far more importantly preparing for a dress up character day this Friday,
a little millinery activity
preceded a dress rehearsal. Sal busied herself with the important task of providing Santa with some helpful hints.
Workboots for Christmas. Ho ho ho. I'd rate that one up there with the weed-eater, the frying pan and the iron. True story.
So with the whips-a-cracking we're heading into the silly season. A planned two day town trip this week cut short by the need to be home to bale hay.
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.