Here are some from the weekend I spent with PP and Becki in October at the Apple Harvest Festival in central Pennsylvania (I'd tell you the town if I remembered). The first is of Ye Olde Hay Mound. What made it "olde" is something of a mystery, but for some inexplicable reason, I found the notion of antiquating a hay mound hilarious. It doesn't take much, I guess:
The second one is of a booth at the festival where they were selling these unspeakably creepy planters made out of children's jeans. I actually thought of someone for whom I could buy one, but doing so would (1) encourage the seller to make more and (2) ruin a friendship. So I opted to spend my money on apple fritters, sweet potato fries with apple vinegar, and an apple smoothie.
(Note the shadow of your intrepid blogger at the bottom.)
This last one is the futon on which I slept at PP and Becki's place:
Now, normally a futon isn't something worthy of a photo, but note the strategically placed container of Lysol wipes. Here's the deal: one evening, some years ago, PP stayed overnight at Volgroth's house for one reason or another. As PP was preparing for bed, Volgroth came into the guest room with a wad of toilet paper. No one knows why (perhaps he would need it to dab his eyes while he cried himself to sleep?), and I think we're a bit too afraid of the answer to actually ask him. Anyway, as a result, every time I stay with PP and Becki, I, too, receive my own little wad of toilet paper, usually tucked neatly next to me under the blankets.
For some reason, on this trip, PP was inspired. Perhaps it was the scent of apples in the air or the rum and Cokes we all had after dinner. Whatever the reason, when I skipped downstairs to go to bed, I found the Lysol wipes waiting for me, tucked neatly next to the pillow. He has outdone even himself. I tell you, the Plaza could learn a thing or two about hospitality from PP.
To those who celebrate, Merry Christmas!
