I wasn't able to go shoot this morning. I was nursing a sick tomcat. He improved steadily (it's surprising the good a little olive oil can accomplish) and when the assorted crew rolled up, I was ready and able to get over to the wondrous hog roast.
Lemme just say -- one moment, have to stop myself droolin' -- if there's a better meal than farm-fresh roast hog with home-made barbecue sauce on freshly-baked real bread* and washed down with cold cider, I don't know what it is.
We shopped a bit, then went back to Roseholme and sat on the porch, chattin'. The grown-ups had locally-brewed Gnawbone IPA which I am assured is world-class, whilst I enjoyed a Jarritos tamarind soda. (I only barely drink beer; it's nice with a grilled steak sometimes but otherwise, I do not seek it out. So sue me. I'm a retired binge drinker: beer was never on my radar).
It was a grand time. Eventually (this means after a nap), it was time to rake leaves and then time to scooter over to the big-box building supply store for leaf bags.
On the way back, I stopped by Locally Grown Gardens to score an apple pie and had a gander at the salmon waiting to be grilled. Yum!
Not such a bad place to be, ol' Broad Ripple.
* Not that squishy stuff they sell in stores. I'm sure it's nutritious and fillin' but I'm talkin' about actual bread, with taste and texture.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
11 months ago