Pickle-sickle

Here's the dummy getting thrown around. 

This enormous person-like thing is a heart attack waiting to happen in the basement. 

And if I don't die of fright from tripping on the dummy, then pork ribs will kill me. 

This is what happens to the rest of the pure-bred, black-footed, acorn-fed, free-roaming happy Iberian pigs. The ribs get packed up and sold at discount stores. 

Snacking before dinner. Can you blame us?

Tristan wanted olives with pickles stuck in them at the farmers market. He and Wyatt assured me that they LOVE pickes and would eat them all up. 

They never loved pickles before, but OK, I'll buy some. Wyatt dubbed it the pickle-sickle and there were only four left. So there you have it: pork-sickles and pickle-sickles. 

The pork fat for future biscuits is red because of some mild pepper. 

     Tristan and Wyatt leave tomorrow for their week-long school ski trip. They are excited.  They were very serious about buying snacks, and packing, and having all their documents.  What world travelers they are already!