My mother is 82 today; Sydney and I were going up to Scott but Mother said since it was raining and Sydney wouldn’t be able to run outside, we should come tomorrow. So we are. Tiffany, the cat, will be there. We are not exactly thrilled but will be polite to the interloper.

I believe I will be taking with me the bat lights I put up for the kids for Halloween, even though it is three weeks away. They are made of black plastic shaped like a bat and have green lights for eyes and purple lights to outline the wings. And two of them flash. I suppose I could climb up and change the flasher bulb, but I think I will climb up and take them down and give them to Mother to put on her porch. Maybe she will hang them down the west room window for the kids who live in the old store across the road.

I remember when it was the Hagerty Bros. General Store and the second set of Haggerty brothers were the fathers of mother’s schoolmates. Jack and she were in the same class – eight graduated. They had a candy counter with glass that slanted back and my folks would buy me candy corn. I don’t remember caring too much for it, but guess I didn’t know any better . . . until I fell in love with Grandma’s lemon pie and people realized I liked tart things best. You could say my taste matches my tongue.

So today I went and saw Kathryn Feller at the nursing home, came back and scarfed a coupld of foldovers and then went on the hunt for the bat lights. I was burrowing through a couple of boxes in the closet when I started sliding and wound up on my back with lots of stuff coming down on me. Actually, it was pretty comfortable there, but eventually I called for some assistance. And later I discovered I had ripped my slacks on part of a Christmas tree. Rats. Well, it happens.

I am boring myself here.

I miss the early daylight of summer and am wondering if I would winter in the southern hemisphere if I had a lot of money – independent wealth, dontcha know. Of course, I have watched an awful lot of TV programs about all the deadly snakes and insects in Australia and that would be the stuff of a winter’s worth of nightmares.

For some reason I just remembered something I read about the colonization of Australia: A great many people thought there was an inland sea and took boats with them over the mountains outside Sydney. I think that’s interesting; actually, it sort of fascinates me. Surely scouts and explorers had ventured out and over the mountains. Maybe some people went over and came back and said, “There’s an inland sea.” Then they started a boat-building business.

Oh, I almost forgot. During some impromptu research here at the PBC&R, Al and Simon discovered the existence of nano-alligators that thrive inside computers. They are working on traps and soon, for three easy payments of $39.95, you can buy one. And if you call right away after they announce the perfection of their device, they will send you two. The traps are so small they are not visible to the naked eye and will come packaged in a small cone container. You clip the end off the point and stick it in the earphone jack.

No, actually, I have been down from the attic for quite some time; I am just coming back from the period of insanity induced by attic visits. Not that I have crazy relatives living in the attic . . . that I know of. It is just having a group of people simultaneously deciding what should go up, come down, be trashed is bedlam.

Then, of course, there is the triggered memory factor: There’s the  winter coat I bought Cameron when he was in first grade and he wore it upstairs right after getting out of school when my dad was sick and Daddy said, “He has a nice little coat,” and Mother said, “AJ got it for him.” At the other end of the spectrum is the Oh! Look! It’s a computer from the days before the Internet or Oh, look! It’s a stretched Mrs. Butterworth bottle made into a lamp. Cool!!!

We went at 4pm because it was a lovely, perfect fall day and we knew the area would be jam-packed. We had confirmation of this because Alison decided to take Colin and Robert (on a roll-a-bout) at 12:30. They called to be picked up about 45 minutes later and reported wall-to-wall people and long, long lines. The beef noodles from Brimfield United Methodist were in smaller containers and cost $4. Hey, I am not paying that. Pork tenderloins were $7. If Mother had come down, she wouldn’t have paid that. I mean, too much is too much. Apple Burgers were still $2.50 . . . and good. Our Bayou Billy cups were filled for only a dollar each.We brought home apple fritters.

I went with the former Georgia guy and Summer and they were dud companions. Sorry, but it’s true. And, you know what? I walked way behind them coming home . . . but their total dudness had already spilled on me. So I will be spending the evening scraping dudness off me and my duds.

Summer challenged her mother to a race – never mind the fact that her mother can go for an hour on the treadmill at a pretty good pace. The results were somewhat unexpected . . . or maybe not. Summer opted to take off her shoes after just a bit around the track. Grandpa did the color commentary on the flip camera and maybe we’ll post that . . . or maybe not.

But for now:

Summer, Alison, track at fairgrounds.

Oh, by the way, we also have and after race interview with Summer on flip video. Oh, so gracious in victory.

I didn’t turn my computer off last night; I left it sleeping on a shelf. I hadn’t looked at the screen in a while before I set in on that shelf and forgot that Summer had been looking up song lyrics. Had I died last night and had someone opened my laptop to see what I was last thinking about, they would have seen a screen showing lyrics to (cringe, cringe) “I farted on Santa’s lap.” I really hate the verb in that sentence, but nevermind that now.

I looked at the screen and sighed deeply . . . and then I looked at the Google search slot and saw where she had typed in “I farted Santa’s lamp.” Lamp? Santa’s lamp? See, now it was impossible not to tell the folks at the PBC&R . . . only I had to say that word, twice. Auuuugggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Well, one day into October and it was damp and chilly this morning and I feel like hibernating. Terribly irresponsible but quite inviting. All things awry exchanged for a guazy time of down-filled comforters and a cozy room. But, ack, I have to mow the lawn. Apple Festival is this weekend and the shuttle trolley, which is actually a bus because kids were yelling obscenities out the open doors and windows, passes by the house every few minutes. As my dad used to say, “They need a knot jerked in their tails.”

It came to me this moring – that term . . .the grandma stop. I was returning from taking Alison to work at the hospital and Cameron was standing there where the driveway meets the sidewalk. “Can you give me a ride to school?” So he’s delivered now. And I am on the sofa on the porch waiting for Colin to finish his shower and for the time – which is fast approaching – when I must awaken Summer, who has been nicknamed “the angry one”.

I am considering blanket-over-the-head mode for today, but it would be awkward for a number of things. Rainy and a little chilly this morn; about time to break out the DVD of a roaring fire. Hey, a little space heater by my feet and a candle burning and the effect is not bad.

I did it first for a joke, but you know what? It kind of works . . . if you can get past the snickering laughs of certain family members. It’s really pretty effective when there is a real fire going in the den and I can smell it. I need to shut up, don’t I ?