It was like Christmas in the kitchen. Everett was at the sink, washing his dishes, when I came through the door. He pulled his hands out of the water and dried them so he could show me everything Gord had brought.
There were root beer Twizzlers. There were grape-flavoured Twizzlers. There was a tabasco chocolate bar. There was candy on a stick for Emil. There were sausage sticks. The list goes on. The fridge was full to bursting. There was a pile of food on the counter. The cupboard had a new lining of Kraft Dinner boxes.
But the big favourite was the tardis cookie jar (à la Doctor Who) that, when you lift the lid, plays the tardis time-travel music.
An even bigger surprise was that inside it were cookies that appear to have been made using Everett's sacred (not "secret") recipe! So finally they are available to the public. I didn't believe it at first—sure he'd made them—but Everett made a point of showing me the disposable packaging they came in.
Had I gone to town yesterday to wash Little Green (sunny day, perfect for getting the inch of dry mud off your car before winter), I'd've stopped over there and got a picture of the cookie jar. But the day flew by, as they do, and I went nowhere except for a walk.
There was machinery running in the field along the road to the south, and to the north. I don't like the noise so I headed straight across the road into the old homestead quarter.