Cooking My Way out of the Blues?

It's been a busy weekend in the kitchen here. I'm not quite sure what bee stung me where but I seem to just be going at it. Last week at the Farmers Market I picked up a bag of little green apples that I told Bob I would bake into a pie for him. On Friday following my stretch of 12hr shifts I attacked said pie and seem to be going at it since. Yesterday at the market I picked up a flat of blueberries, some green beans, red potatoes, pickling cucumbers, and some delicious orange tomatoes. The berries were for another pie that is in the oven as I type. I love blueberry baked goods. Always have. My mom used to make me blueberry strudel in stead of birthday cakes. In fact, I love berries in general. Even tart lips stuck to your soft palette green gooseberries. 

The potatoes, beans and tomatoes went into dinner along with a bourbon vanilla pork chops recipe I got out of a magazine I picked up the other day. Dinner was pretty darn tasty. In fact left overs are calling my name for lunch. And this morning, I'm feeling pretty chipper as I watch my crust brown, dry the morning's batch of dishes and in general feel kind of smug about my lazy Sunday morning productivity levels.

And for some strange reason I thought to try my hand at home pickling yesterday.

With that all out, let me move on to other things. Stop emailing me about the teddy bear in my last posting. That's Blue. Leave him alone. I'm very protective of Blue. God knows he's looked over me many a night as a kid after watching scary movies or sneaking reading material beyond what my poor underage over active imagination could take. My mom brought Ol' Blue home when she brought me home on a long ago Easter Sunday. That's right. He's as old as I am and one of the last vestiges of childhood I hold onto. Sullivan the Great Dane about lost his life last night as he came out of the bedroom with him in his mouth and an eye missing due to me leaving him down where I shouldn't have. Damn him. I'm sure some of you can relate and have pieces of your childhood tucked away.

So don't talk smack about my bear.

Have a good lazy Sunday.