Nuttin' in particular

Every once in a while "just one of those days" comes along. One arrived at the Lovestead this morning, and I'm hardly overflowing with news, thoughts, observations or anything in particular.

I could talk about the remnants of dull but noticeable pain, reminding me that Miss Heather stepped on my foot this morning. Have ya ever had a horse step on your foot? If so, you know pain.

I remember when my friend Susie's horse stepped, squashed and ground my foot into the Arizona hardpan itself one time when I was visiting her in Prescott. That was before we took our walking tour of the Old West rodeo town north of Phoenix where she was living at the time.

Susie's as natural as they come when it comes to using medicine. I doubt she's ever taken an Advil or even an aspirin.

I was trying to be brave that day cuz Susie's also tough, and being her dirt road friend from so far back, I didn't want to appear wussy in her presence. Nonetheless, she could see that I was suffering, so she took me to some natural goods store in downtown Prescott and had me buy a remedy for the pain.

It was this little jar of beads. You took a few, stuck 'em under your tongue, and for about ten minutes, all pain disappeared. So, as Susie walked and I limped around Prescott and had some lunch, I kept downing those beads cuz once they quit working, that pain returned with even more excruciating intensity.

Turns out that horse actually broke a couple of toes, and the fun thing was wearing hiking boots everywhere, including to school, for the following three weeks. They were the only footgear that allowed me room for those toes to avoid touching any surface. And, they kinda protected me from further injury.

As for the beads, when I got home, I resorted to Advil.

This morning's horse-hoof injury isn't so bad, but I have a feeling my foot will be black and blue. Right now it's feeling just fine in my open-air Crocs.

This morning I could also talk about my brown fingers. Appetizing thought, isn't it?

My friend Darlene told me how I could make applesauce by just coring the apples and throwing them along sweet, spicy accessories, into a slow cooker and leave it overnight. That sounded like it saved a lot of work, but I'm an old-fashioned type with my applesauce--I still stick to the tedious procedure I learned from my mother.

Besides, the horses love the peels.

So, I sit by the hour, quarter them, core them and peel, peel, peel. Then, throw 'em in the pot with some water, sugar and cinnamon and let 'em cook until you can mash 'em into a sauce. I did the peeling off and on throughout the day yesterday, and I knew I should wear rubber gloves to keep that apple acid from dyeing my skin.

But my rubber gloves are big and airy; they don't allow me a good grip in moments when I need a good grip. With that in mind, I just figured I wouldn't be seeing anyone for a while, so I could put up with some brown finger tips. Well, this morning, I wish I would have worn gloves, but I am happy with the five quarts of sauce sitting on the kitchen counter.

Back to my mother's methods for a second. Anyone out there remember the Foley Food Mill rage? I do. Mother brought home this funny looking metal thing one day and said it would be the end of all those hours of peeling. If I recall correctly, you stuck the cooked apples in the bowl and started cranking. The sauce fell out through little holes in the bowl. I also recall that it was extremely messy.

Mother used that new invention one year, decided the sauce wasn't lumpy enough---too much like baby food---and the Foley Food Mill remained in the lower cupboard for years after, only to come out when her conglomeration of pots and pans of all shapes and sizes got unruly and wouldn't allow anything else within.

A few cuss words, lots of banging and everything came out onto the floor to be reorganized in hopes of good behavior for the next three years.

I don't know if Mother's Foley Food mill made the trip from North Boyer to Colburn cuz I haven't seen it for years. I do know, however, that it or Darlene's method for making sauce could save on some brown fingers.

While I peeled apples, Bill and I watched portions of the Boise State game yesterday. He left for town at halftime. When he returned, I told him Boise State had won big again, remaining undefeated and maybe even moving up in the top ten this week.

I had turned the channel to the LSU-Alabama game and noticed that Bill was wearing his Boise State baseball cap. I figured it was his symbolic gesture and that if LSU could defeat No. 1 Alabama, his yellow and blue Tiger hat would replace the Bronco. Unfortunately, Alabama eked out a victory in an overtime, so the LSU hat may sit for a while.

As I said, it's a nuttin' in particular day, and some things never change. Horse barns to clean, more leaves to rake and maybe a few more apples to peel. Other than that, pretty uneventful.

Happy Sunday.