Tomorrow and Sunday are Apple Festival here in Kendallville. It has been raining a lot this week, but the local workers have been out there getting ready. I have seen them; I admire them. Today is going to be a tough one for them – the high will be 52 and there is an 80% chance of rain all day. S0 even in periods when it’s not raining, it will be chilly and really wet.

Tomorrow and Sunday have zero chance of rain and are predicted to be sunny. That means there will be lots and lots of visitors to get ready for. I hope they realize volunteers slogged through today’s temporary marsh land in rain slickers to pull things together. They probably won’t, but then to paraphrase Sir Thomas Moore:

Who will know what they did? Each one, their fellow workers, God. Not a bad audience, that.

Der Bingle sent me a site and I looked:

The actual site is HERE if you think you have the will power to look.
It makes me want to chant: Face in the Pie,  Face in the Pie,  Face in the Pie.  Whatcha gonna do when your face is in the pie?

In one hour and 45 minutes, give or take, I am going to be in Fort Wayne with the “one whose leg is in a cast.” Right now I am on the sofa wearing underwear and a long San Diego shirt. Last evening Summer ventured that she would like to do the same, but didn’t want to look like “old people.”

Sigh. I keep telling her to think things through. Does she really want to toy around with such taunting. She thinks old people can’t run as fast as she and she is probably right – can’t chase her upstairs and all that. Heh, heh, I have different methods.

Ah, but that is for later revenge and sadistic retaliation . . .

Right now I have to get some clothes on and get The Leg” to the clinic.

We were busy here – sort of a bubbling hodge-podge of activity without much of import getting done or, for that matter, enjoyed. Things looked up, though, when Summer announced she had to go to a Mexican restaurant for Spanish Club tonight.  She doesn’t care too much for such food so we figured we’d get some doggie bag stuff. Well, she brought something home. Something. It looked like liver on a wet noodle. We stared at it . . . I courageously ventured a taste. Nothing bad happened. No good taste landed on my tongue, either.

We were bummed. Her mother asked her questions about what it was supposed to be, but I decided ignorance might be, if not bliss, at least preferable.

I feel the only thing to do now is have a foldover on multi-grain bread. Or a peanut butter ball sub sandwich – a foot-long one. Just letting my imagination have fun there.

It is 6:58 am and it is DARK here in Eastern Indiana. Dark, dark and dark. Getting out of bed in the morning is like getting up in the middle of the night. And that ain’t fun. I am in my adjustment period after a summer of waking up to the day’s light.

This is not a time of “up and at them.”

Waiting for Daylight could be a book title, but it is not something that I enjoy psychologically.

UPDATE:

Oh.

My Poo* friends here at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse have bestowed on me, AmeliaJake, the Order of the Striped Stockings. Der Bingle helped them order from Amazon.com, which is at times, as Summer once said, “Amazing.com.”

*Rose, The Great Poo, Woo, Foo, Moo, MaxWoo, Newfie, Sophie, Lydia, to name just a few.

I foolishly proclaimed today NICE DAY because I have been especially unkind of late and people are complaining. Obviously, it was a shoot from the hip decision. How can I possibly be nice for a day? Neutral would be almost an impossibility itself.

Sedation. However, according to the by-rules, that is not allowed. I don’t know if someone rendered me unconscious by hitting me over the head with a cast iron skillet if that would make them not nice and I would come out ahead by default – albeit with a resultant faulty head.

One of the things that others have found irksome is my tendency to declare everyone a “dud”; my claim is I have won my “e” and am a cool dude. Someone here has a Bamboo drawing accessory for her computer – compliments of her grandpa – and I think I will ask her to sketch some pictures of my “cool dudeness.”

Soooo . . .

Here we are in our real  jobs:

A cousin from my Grandfather Shimp’s side of the family called and I am invited to a gathering of Shimps. The message was on my answering machine and we had four people trying to decipher the address. I am taking deviled eggs, paprika courtesy of Summer, the great-great granddaughter of John Shimp. Mother was his daughter. If you are curious about the Shimp connection, I guess you could type “Shimp” into the search option. I think there are pictures; well, I know there are, I just don’t know how many.

My emotions have been on a roller coaster because yesterday morning I opened my Kindle case and found it was malfunctioning. I called Amazon.com and they had a new one to me by about nine this morning.  YES!  Oh yes. Oh, goodness gracious yes. Thank you Amazon. I’m giddy now. Probably from glee but maybe it is an after-effect of my rehabilitation therapy. (See comments on Hello Sophie post)