Oh, this probably happened when I was getting the camera out of my pocket.

Little purple flowers

View from mower

View from mower closer

View up close and personal

Ah, rustoleum needed here.

Der Bingle called this morning with some alarming news heard on the radio; I found the story HERE. Yes, there is a peanut shortage this year due to crop failures.

Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!

I hyperventilated and I didn’t have a paper bag; I had to grab a small amazon.com box and manhandle the box flaps to circle my mouth and nose. If Summer hadn’t ordered a Nintendo game and left the little box by me, I’d be on the floor passed out now.

This is The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, Jack. What are we going to do if we can’t get peanut butter? Does Betty Ford have a clinic for us? Probably not- that Carter fellow, dontcha know.

We are going to have to plan and, as Der Bingle says, keep the good stuff under the bar. Maybe become a  private club with a small little door to speak easy through in our screen door.  Screen door? Well, there goes that ambiance. Oh, well, cold weather’s coming on. Guess we may get a big wooden door with a small face level opening.

Just say Rose sent me.

Up and ready for the day – my day; let me be clearer – MY DAY. I would say I am going to do whatever I want, but I’d better qualify that and add the word legal. I don’t know, though, I might include misdemeanor.
First I have to get Summer to school, then it’s up for grabs; I’ll tell you one thing: I ain’t mowing no lawn today.
I do know what is just around the corner, though; that would be raking leaves. This year I think I am going for the “rake some on a tarp every day and pull it to the street” method. The marathon of raking and towing tarps to the curb is just not appealing this year. Then, again, maybe God’s Rake will come along and whoosh them away. Sometimes God’s Rake brings me leaves then from other lawns.
Sigh.
I will worry about that tomorrow. Or the next day.
You know, I live in a brick house. What if the Big Bad Wolf came along and huffed and puffed and blew my leaves away? That would be traitorous of me to use his services, though, since I was so upset with the grandma being eaten all up in the 50’s version of Little Red Riding Hood that my parents had to give it away.
Yes, Grandma was a different kind of grandma than I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if some people here don’t have the BBW on speed dial.