Ah, this is a Cheerwine Sunday morning in Indiana, so please don’t tell the Cheerwine Patrol who is on the outlook for Yankee Cheerwine Drinkers.

I think I may have mentioned Cheerwine here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse and now if you look HERE, you will see the authorities may be onto us.

When I was little, I did not know what a moon pie; and actually as I type, I do not really know if it is one word or two. I also still do not know what a moon pie is, although I have been told and think it involved cakes and a center layer of creamy stuff.

I do know that Grandpa introduced Cameron to moon pies and now he is waiting for the traveller from Georgia to arrive with a stash of them. We have learned you can find them here, but not always easily.

I have received edification via email and HERE it is to share.

* Okay, so it’s MoonPie; I would say that is two words without a space. My head hurts.

Yesterday was a hectic day, hectic and stressful and then last evening, when I was watching a DVD movie, Summer came around the corner and said, “Grandma, you should see this.” She led me to the basement but did not turn into the main area, which by the way they had trashed; she led me into the other third of the basement – the bunker where we hide out. There, on the far wall, I saw a waterfall. The rug was soaked like a sponge.

It is apparently the drain pipe from the washer and that pipe is hidden behind another. The water pushed Pfaltzgraff serving bowls and lids off shelves; the big crock pot . . . kaboom.

Today, I will try and handle this . . . and then I may lie down in a fetal postion.

Some years ago Summer and I formed the Mean Girls Ice Cream Eating Club. We are both mean and vindictive and we both like ice cream and so we would just share a carton and pretend the it was an island and we were monsters eating its shores and digging holes to China. (Do they did to the USA in China? Nevermind.) We imagined little inhabitants on our spoons.

We are mean.

Today, though, I was surfing around and discovered that there is this huge glob of negative energy generated as people attack blogs and defend blogs. Comments sections have the most vicious remarks. And it is personal. I had learned about a site called Poops on Peeps when I first did a little research on Pioneer Woman. P on P didn’t care for her; she also didn’t like Dooce of whom I had not heard of, but now know is a really top blogger. Okay, her opinion. I don’t care . . . and actually I check in from time to time to get the latest.

Today, when I went there I saw she had blogged about  a site where the woman had complained that she had heart trouble and not cancer because if she had cancer, people would give her a new computer. That site is What Was I Thinking* and I thought, “Hey, I’ve seen that blog.” So I went there and that lady had written a rebuttal and then there were comments on the Poops on Peeps site and gosh, it gets a little scary.

IP address threats and HA! I spit on IP address threats, you computer nimcompoop.

Summer and I are backing away slowly.

*www.outtamymindwithworry.blogspot.com (What Was I Thinking)

Cameron is writing paragraphs about A Separate Peace by John Knowles that was assigned for summer reading. He is supposed to address the characteristics of two “round” characters in this paper. Okay, he writes a bit and then sends me what he has written and asks, “Is it right?” Duh . . . I don’t know; so I put him off and Google the book which takes me into character analysis and motifs and themes and symbols. Did Knowles figure all this out as he planned his book, or did he just write the story he had and let people make of it watch they will?

Since people have been looking at the themes and motifs and symbols in literature for a long, long time, I guess I must function at a lower level. I think I have always looked at the characters themselves in determining why they reacted as they did; all these years, I should have been paying more attention to the part of the question that asked what the author was telling you. Those characters, they didn’t have a chance. I guess novelists are Presbyterians – predestination, don’tcha know.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen . . .

This is a roll about:

You may notice the leg that goes with it. It has been broken three times.

So the Roll-A-Bout  has been used some – notice the duct tape. Let’s see in 2006, August 15th, we had the first breaking – mangling of the ankle –  then last July, 2007, the stress fracture occurred and this  July, they discovered it was disintegrating again.

But the Roll-A-Bout doesn’t look like this anymore, as of yesterday. Last evening the frame broke at a welded crossbar  – right by the toe of the boot in the picture – and I will be heading down to James Medical to see if they can arrange to fix it and provide us with a loaner.

I wish I knew someone with a big ole blowtorch . . . I wonder, do you think an auto body shop or a motorcycle shop would be able to do something with it?

It is going to be an interesting day.