Applesauce and Other Things

I made more applesauce tonight.  Or rather, I will make it, while I sleep.  Like a boss.  Okay, more like a person who owns a crockpot.  I've made quite a bit of applesauce over the last month or so.  So much that for a moment I felt bad for RG, that she's been eating so much applesauce.  Until I remembered that apples are delicious, and until she gets herself some teeth (8 mo. & counting...) applesauce is the only way she's going to get to enjoy delicious apples.  

Conscience: Absolved.

Want to know how to make applesauce?  You buy some apples from the local fruit stand, perhaps even from the $0.49 bin where the less-than-pretty ones are stored.  You peel them & chop them and throw them in a crockpot until its full to the brim.  Then you squeeze the juice of one rejected, degenerate lemon that is sitting on your counter.  Finally, you empty the cinnamon shaker into the mix, provided you're about out of cinnamon - that seems to be the perfect amount.  You put the crockpot on low, set the timer for about 7 hours, and you go to bed.  In the morning, you use an immersion blender (or potato masher, dependent upon your technological preferences in the kitchen) to make the magic happen.  Boom.  Criss-cross, applesauce.

Other things that are going on around here include a quick trip to Minnesota, where we discovered that Bobby's mom, since retiring from animated television, is working for the TSA, doncha know? {True story: watching that intro made me feel weird and 4-years-old again.  Four is a strange age to feel.}  RG also logged another 4 plane rides on our trip, which she handled like a champion.  She loves takeoff, stewardesses, and smiling at strangers so... basically, she had a ball.

Outside of that, its been yogging and snuggles with Riley Girl, enjoying my neighbor's out-of-no-where display of Christmas lights, racking my brain for a perfect Halloween costume for my girl, and chatting my ears off with my husband.  And yes, I mean chatting my ears off, because when we talk, its mostly me listening.  He's quite chatty, my love.  When I stopped him mid-story recently, and told him that I wanted to talk, he protested that we were talking.  No no, I explained, I wanted to do the talking.  At which he protested again, "But you're a much better listener"... oy.

What about you?

<3 M.