Nudity, Body Bags, and Fruit Trees

I take my kids swimming in my brother's backyard pool.  I know you're thinking of a small backyard with an even smaller pool stuck in the middle of it.  Think again, my friends.  Every time I go, I'm struck again by the scope of his prodigious, theme-park-sized pool.  There are changing rooms, a dedicated pool kitchen, a high dive, rope swing, hot tub, water basketball, and three waterfalls.  He even has a twelve foot nude statue of Poseidon standing guard by the deep end to make sure every little boy gawks then giggles before drowning.  And that's not including the amenities outside of the pool area.  I would show you a picture of it, but then I'd have to track you all down and kill you, so I'll save myself the bother.

It's truly a joy and a privilege to be invited to this wonderland once a week.

However, last week came with an added perk: apricots.  You all love apricots, right?  Right?

In what used to be my father's green bean patch, (Quick side note: My father used plant his garden, then leave it to me and my sister to weed and harvest, and let me say that when we gave away bags of beans at harvest time, I'm not talking about the little grocery bags most people distribute.  We gave away big black garbage bags most people use as body bags.  Any guests that came to our house around that time couldn't leave until they agreed to carry away fifty pounds of string beans.  Visitors decreased dramatically from June to August.)  my brother now has six very productive apricot trees.  They're beauties.  So, to help him out a little, I grabbed a couple of (small) grocery bags and filled them up. Yum.

Until they're not so yum.

My youngest son and I are really the only fruit eaters in my house and we have worked our little stomaches to the breaking point trying to eat all the apricots we picked last week.  We're not much closer to finishing than we were when we began.  Why is that?  I even gave some away.  Twice!  But my big, big bowl is still overflowing.  Sigh.

Looks like I'm going to have to resort to dire measures and make fruit leather.  (Dire, because once it's fruit leather, we all eat it and eat it and eat it until our little stomaches revolt.)

If there are still apricots hanging on the trees next time I go to my brother's, I'd like to say I won't be tempted to pick more, but I probably will.  Free food isn't something I can ignore.