This is a view of just part of the dining room ceiling . . . and other rooms had balloons, as well.

We believe in the randomness of decoration . . . so we threw streamers up and over the chandelier and, well, some of them didn’t quite make it.

Helium may be one reason the balloons are hugging the ceiling, but the pointy hat might be a little motivating as well.

Summer got an electronic keyboard from her grandpa and along with wishes of Happy Birthday, there have been cries of EARPHONES!!!!.

Seventeen years. That’s how old Summer is today. Usually, a lot of paragraphs that start this way continue with Remember when…. Why should this one be different? Remember when she was not as tall as the kitchen counter? Oh, yes. Remember when we went to her great-grandparents for Thanksgiving and she kept backing up against her great-grandpa’s legs so he would get the hint and lift her up to put the basketball through the hoop? This IS Indiana, don’tcha know.

Remember when she and her grandpa went and cut down out Christmas tree?

Remember when she was a little adamant about not losing at Scrabble?
Remember when she ran into the garage and hugged her great-grandma around the knees from behind when the latter arrived for a visit?
Remember when she and I went through a car wash pretending we were being eaten by a monster and then when we reached the end of the conveyer belt ride and were rolled out, we realized we hadn’t thought this analogy out?

Well, let’s see what this day will bring . . .

I just came back from a walk and I have decided their should be a Stride Factor numeric for people who have short legs. It is upsetting to have to take so many more steps than most people. I alternate between taking a lot of real fast short comfortable steps and a series of stretched out strides. Of course, it doesn’t matter as far as the benefit to fitness is concerned, but sometimes it’s a bummer.

I have toddler legs or, as some people are wont to say – duck legs. I notice in the summer when people are wearing shorts that many, many women are the same height as I am from head to the bottom of the torso – and then it’s a whole different story. In my case, a short one.

But, it’s not a real complaint; my legs work and have feet attached.

Two Moo, who is one of our bovine friends, one we would never, ever consider tipping, is a little worried about a recently announced threat that she saw on The Drudge Report. You can read about it HERE. Two Moo is getting her tinfoil hat out.

If you’ve forgotten about Two Moo, here is her picture sans tinfoil:

We think it was the fish. After I wrote about “the illness” on Thursday, I slept most of the day and had a sore stomach Friday. Friday also held something unexpected:

So, no thanks for the fish.

Yesterday Rose and I took Mrs. Feller a big bag of candy and cashews. Of course, Rose was the real treat. She sat at the dinner table and watched me play Solitaire, but even her presence could not influence a win for me. I average about one win every three weeks.

Later she sat in Clara’s automatic chair that goes up and down and tilts forward and back and is really, really comfy. I thought she might run out and raid the snack cart of ice cream when it came around, but she controlled herself. It is possible, however, that she had had her head in the candy bag. It seems I did hear munching while I was sitting in Kathryn’s wheelchair with my feet up on the bed reading my Kindle was Kathryn dozed. I just realized I forgot to check her pockets when we left . . .

I didn’t scarf any of the candy bars, but maybe I should have because as the night unfolded I don’t think they would have added calories. You see, we came home and I went to bed and woke up with a burning in the pit of my stomach and diarrhea – or as some people here call it, “THE Diarrhea.” Rose, though, was fine . . . she woke up, looked at me and muttered, “Oh, too bad,” and mowed farther away from me. She said, “I do THE Crazy; I don’t do THE diarrhea.” Probably a wise decision on her part.