This year's tomato crop is officially gone. This weekend, The Husband picked all of the tomatoes that remained on the vines - a few pounds of green ones and a few almost-ripe ones. I made 4 pints of green tomato pickle Sunday afternoon. We ate the last two ripe ones with our Hamburger Helper for supper tonight.
The sewing machine repair shop called earlier today and said my machine was ready. The Husband picked it up for me so I wouldn't have to throttle the old man that runs the place. I haven't tried it, yet. It better sew properly, is all I can say.
As I was writing this, I heard the armadillo rustling. He can't sneak around now, with the leaves a foot deep on the yard. I got up and stuck my head in the kitchen and asked The Husband if he wanted to shoot the armadillo. He went and got the rifle, and I grabbed the spotlight. Of course it wasn't charged up. I had to run find a flashlight, and while I was gone, the armadillo went down in the gully, and our pitiful little flashlight wasn't enough to light him up. The Husband has put the rifle back where it belongs, and now I hear the armadillo rustling again at the far edge of the yard.
Ima let him go for one more day. My feet are cold, and I can see my breath between me and the laptop screen. It's time to go in for the night.
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