I work with such great people. One of my managers loves to tease me about being his secretary. For example, when one of the other assistants brought in baked goodies for her manager's lunch meeting, my manager joked, "How come my assistant never bakes anything?" Of course, I give as good as I get and told him I'd bring in a French Silk Chocolate Pie - which is nothing but butter and sugar (with some chocolate, of course). And he's trying to trim the pounds. We go back and forth like that all the time, and it's a lot of fun. Nothing mean-spirited about it.
This morning, he brought in a whole bag of peaches for me (since, as he said, I'm such a peach of an assistant). He says they're from the western slope. And it sounds like that's supposed to Mean Something. Western slope of the Rockies? Is Western Slope a town? I'm a peach ignoramus. But I do know one thing: those peaches are delicious, juicy, a mess to eat, and wonderful. I know Mark is probably salivating reading this. Don't worry, honey, I've got a bagful to bring home. Now I've got to see if I can find some good peach recipes. I want to make sure these peaches get eaten or used before they go bad.