Crack. House.

Thanks to two little old ladies, my house is being turned into a crack house. Well, if you're a pasta-lover, that is. These pictures are scenes from my life each and every weekend for the past two weekends, to continue indefinitely - until the tomatoes at the garden run out:






The tomatoes come in in droves - my dad (Farmer Mac) runs the garden. Then, my mom and aunt (who comes to visit each weekend to help Mom work the kitchen) get busy. They roast the tomatoes in olive oil, then set about making pasta sauce that smells so good, I come very close to dying and going to heaven several times each day - when they put the fixins in the stock pot and start the sauce, the garlic makes me crazy. Kinda like (I imagine) crack would. I could smell this stuff all day - probably the same feeling an addict might get.

I'm just sayin'.