Ahhh....fishin'

With Senora Maria in Mexico for the last two weeks on an unplanned visit, I am staring at a mile high pile of laundry that needs to be ironed.  I've attacked it once, when I thought she'd be back last week, but oh, my, how clothes multiply.   I saw a friend at the grocery store earlier--the one whose daughter had the liver transplant--and she suggested I iron outside as a way to make it more fun.  Sounds good to me.

                        
I have it on good authority that a certain short guy, one Hudson Groth, is down at mom's old fishing club (Coon Creek) with his dad, and caught his very first fish at the Spillway!  This is especially important because that's where his daddy caught his very first fish.  And...the torch is passed.  Everyone in our family has their own favorite Coon Creek story--me included.  Some I can tell, others not so much-- but just know they are all the stuff that makes family smile those knowing smiles, and scream out laughing over others.  It seems Hud and his dad are there with a friend of Hud's dad's, and his son, so that equals four times the amount of trouble they can all get into.  I know this for a fact.  I can do the math easily on this one. 

Brian came by Friday night to pick up our old washer for his next Farm Blow Up-Fest and he might possibly score his Aunt Margie's old one, too, since her's just got a toe tag.  Man....what is it with all these appliances going down the tubes at once?  Guess it's the appliance law that they must die in pairs.

I have a huge brisket thawing that quite simply needs to jump aboard my big green egg.  It's just the right thing to do.  Considering it's as hard as our driveway, it may take a day or two to thaw, but that's OK.  I'm not in a big rush.  I have to go find the recipe for the rub I put on the last one, that I really liked.  Now if I can just find it. 

OK...I've stalled enough.  Time to at least go iron a few pieces (eye roll).