Alison and I moved two sofas today; Robert watched . . . because he has that broken, shattered, fused “surgified” leg. We even had to move him twice, by the way. One sofa was ditched – the one in the den; another was moved from living room to den. We had to move a lot of clutter to accomplish the job. I am definitely considering becoming a minimalist . . . Although whenever I walk into a house as neat as a model home, I think, “Where are your things!?”

I don’t know what those people think when they come into my home and see all my clutter and special things lying around – oh, like a part of a brick from the high school my grandmother graduated from in 1900, a Christmas moose I didn’t have the heart to put away, old greenish-blue glass insulators from another time, a straw hat hanging form the lock on a window.

I once was on the beach in San Diego and heard a middle-aged couple not far away talking about her mother’s home. The man said he had already targeted a bookcase that needed to be organized. Gosh, he’d be busy here.

On September 9, 1939, Kathryn and Emory were married in the parsonage in town. It was a Saturday night, and as Kathryn says, most people were in town anyway. They were going to be married at 6 pm, but Emory’s mother said to wait until 6:30 pm, because at that time, both hands of the clock would be on an upward journey.

Don’t look but I am posting because I want the telephone to ring and my daughter-in-law to be ready to be picked up. Her shift ends at 7:30 pm but she often has to stay because of charting and/or admissions. I was waiting to go get her . . . and waiting . . . I thought if I started posting, the phone would ring. Hey! It worked at the word “started”.

It’s mirrors, dontcha know.

Summer is like me; she procrastinates. She has a leaf project due tomorrow and was short a couple of leaves.  I remembered my father was at the fairgrounds with me about 12 years ago and remarked about the shagbark hickory trees there. He knew all the trees and bird songs and things about nature someone who grew up in a rural area would know. He was a boy in the 20’s, living in a county that bordered on the Wabash. So, this evening, when push came to shove, I saw my dad at the fairgrounds in my mind’s eye – perhaps in my heart – and took Summer to get a hickory leaf.

Yes, here I am . . . fresh from cleaning a bathroom. So, not really fresh, actually, far from it. Need to shower. However, it is appropriate I am already tarnished because I am going to give you a peeps link that Der Bingle says is “atrocious”. He’s right, but hey, I’m going to do it. Here it is. That is to say, it is HERE.

We have a new wise one at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse . . .  and without further ado, here he is:

Look what Der Bingle’s pal sent us:

We think he found it HERE.

It is 86 and feels like 90. It hasn’t really done that this summer . . . until now when Labor Day is past. We might get isolated thunderstorms this afternoon. Hmmm, I guess I mean to say the whole area “we” will have isolated thunderstorms and so the local “we” may have one . . . or not. Nevermind.

Tomorrow it is supposed to be 72 for the high, but it is not going to be a drastic drop today; it will just drop into the 60’s tonight and not climb much higher tomorrow. I personally would like a storm and then the relief of cooler weather. But, I do have to admit that I think the Ice Road Trucker climate would be too cold for me . . . at least out on the tundra. Maybe with a sturdy log cabin and big fir trees I would be content. Maybe.

I am not myself today – I have been doing housework, cleaning windows and pulling down cobwebs and cleaning woodwork. And vacuuming. I need automated scrubbers attached to my hands and/or an army of elves. I had a elf handyman once, but he kept writing down when I was naughty and I had to let him go. Come to think of it, that might have not gone over well with the man in the red suit.

UPDATE:

90 big ones and it feels like 95. I am so acked. I picked Summer and Cameron up  . . . and made sure to park in the shade waiting for them. We have not seen a thunderstorm, although it got dark just as I was ready to step into the shower and I rushed under the water and into my clothes to get the comforters that were drying in the sunlight. Then it cleared up.

Summer’s white comforter smells so good, having dried in the sunshine . . . and if I see her walking around with it on her shoulders while the ends drag, I will zip into my super grandma suit and leap through the air and land on her and pummel her.

Or . . . I will smite her; I have been taking lessons from some angel friends, but, darn it, I don’t have my license yet. I guess it will have to be a drive-by smiting . . . or a fly by night one. I suppose I could hire a hit angel.

Well, now that I am in the mood for smiting, what if she doesn’t drag the comforter? What then, huh? Oh, yes, there is always Joe Biden.

Dropped off Colin at the school and headed down to Fort Wayne so Robert could get a new cast; I took some pictures of the incisions pre-staple removal. Probably post them. Basic new cast – four more weeks – no weight-bearing. Stopped at Hallmark Store for a Yankee Candle in a jar and, guess what? – they had Macintosh and Peach, one of the discontinued scents. Got two drinks to go at the Marathon station and one of the weird looking clerks was talking to a man who was leaving. They were talking politics and the man who was leaving said that the Republicans were only for the rich and didn’t care for anybody. Almost said, “Hey, Sir, don ‘t be assuming I’m a jerk.” (Along with the little old lady puppy dog look.) Kept my mouth shut. The other clerk, an older gentleman waited on me, and he kept his mouth shut too.

Came home and worked in kitchen until fed Sydney on the porch and guess what???? Colin is home.

Okay, doing pictures now:

Aha – Der Bingle’s friend and others are heading back to Georgia, leaving Nashville and aimed at Chattanooga. They just checked in with a picture of the denzins of the backseat – California Lemonhead and Alien Poo. They are navigating and Alien Poo says the map is inadequate. “We usually use globes,” she told Der Bingle.

That’s AP on the left and CLH on the right. Invisible Poo is in between them. No, no. I kid.

So, while I was in the kitchen, going backward here, I made chili out of the home-grown tomato sauce. And I made something for the urchins as well. I have had a cup of the chili and am waiting to see how it is going to affect my digestive track, which has been a little touchy of late.

Ack, interrupted again. Maybe I’ll be back.