The first serious cool front arrived in our neck of the Texas woods on Friday, and it has been a delight to go on my morning walks through the neighborhood in temps that require me to throw on a hoodie. It was especially appreciated on Saturday when our women's club hosted a fall festival at the club. As vice president, I was in charge of rounding up craft vendors. In addition to helping with set up and then clean up, I manned the kid's pumpkin and mask painting station all afternoon. My upside to wrangling the mess of paint covered fingers was the fact that I got to enjoy the sounds of the band nearby playing tunes from the 70s.
Before our false fall departs and we're back into the 80s, I decided to whip up a big pot of chili. As the husband so eloquently puts it, around here we enjoy it "carny style". He initially turned up his nose and demanded rice for his chili when we first got married. But now he likes to eat it over corn chips just like I did when I was a kid. And since I made enough to feed a small army, I had the husband take a couple containers over to his parents so they could eat some and freeze the rest to make chili cheese dogs down the road, which they do enjoy. If I happen to make it to 89 or 90 like them, then I plan to eat chili cheese dogs whenever the mood strikes.
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