We have started painting zee fence. (Feeling a little Frenchie for a moment) and it is Pebble Grey.  My shorts now have Pebble Grey spots on them, but, hey, that’s okay since I had a bleach accident with them a year ago.

It is always enlightening to realize how BIG a fence is that encloses a SMALL area when you start painting. I don’t know how long it will take us but I am looking forward to the part when we get to where the woodpile used to be, because a couple of years I painted the fence with the wood piled in front of it and it looks a little odd now that the wood is gone.

If I had artistic talent, I would paint an evergreen forest on the fence panels with a path leading somewhere magical. But I don’t, so Pebble Grey is as magical as it gets. Maybe I can pretend it is a gentle fog rolling in, carrying the scent of the sea. I could add a fog horn for verisimilitude, or I could stand out there and pretend to be a fog horn. I suppose that would get old and I might wind up in an asylum with Pebble Grey walls – not too stimulating, dontcha know?

So, Josh Duggar has admitted himself to a long-term rehab center as a result of revelations about his past, and I guess, his right up until “The Site” was hacked, present. After the first go round, The Discovery Channel took “19 Kids and Counting” out of production. I got to wondering today if with the huge base of viewership and supporters that the Duggars have, that The Discovery Channel might rethink its position and present the show as the same big family MINUS ONE dealing with the stress, shame, embarrassment brought about by the Rehabbing Black Sheep.

I think they could draw a big audience as they deal with family trouble, something that most everyone has . . . except up to now, the Duggars. I’m talking bottom line here, business-sense stuff. I don’t know that I am correct in my evaluation, but I wouldn’t bet against it.

Der Bingle tells me that this gift took most of the Icebats’ allowance, and I want them to know I really appreciate it.

This is my first birthday since Shane died; it’s been a heck of a year.

I took the Shark vacuum up to Lagrange and vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. You get such a feeling of accomplishment seeing the dirt come into the compartment and being easy to dump out. Then you start feeling tired. Not because the Shark is hard to use, but because you keep thinking, “Oh, I just get that one more place.”

It’s a big house and I’ve still got a lot of Sharking to do. There is a remote possibility the novelty will wear off.

We bought paint for the fence; I’m not feeling the joy in it. Gosh, I seem to be a wet blanket tonight, but I don’t care.

I had weird and scary dreams last night, which I cannot remember. That is probably a good thing, unless a snatch comes back while I am driving and I lift my hands off the steering wheel, put them over my face and scream. Of course, I might do that if a Sugar Plum Fairy suddenly appeared right in front of my car on the highway. Could that be why children can’t get driver’s licenses – I mean what if the drove Christmas morning. I’d say this paragraph is getting pretty far out there sooooo I think I’ll back away slowly.

I read all day yesterday and then the book was finished and there was more daytime left. So I looked at a sample of a more expensive book Kindle has been pushing:  Leaving Berlin, an novel set in 1949 – early in the Cold War – and I found myself confused. I will not be coughing up the dollars for it; if I want to be confused, there are a lot of books I already have that can do that.

I feel obligated to do something today, however since I am not trained in neurosurgery or astrophysics, I don’t think I will be doing anything noteworthy. Well, as Bill Murray said in What About Bob? – BABY STEPS.

I think fence painting is on my agenda this week; maybe I should have been reading about Tom Sawyer. (No relation to Diane)

Two days ago, I announced I had decided to just not do some things; to let them go – things like laundry and weeds and washing dishes. And then I couldn’t take the pressure of “Just saying No” and finished all tasks. Yesterday, I sat around until 11:30 in the morning and then gave a big SIGH and gathered up two grandkids and power cords and drinks in a cooler and headed up to LaGrange where we mowed, used the weed eater and sprayed weed killer. It was not hot, but humid, and when it came time to leave I could not find my hat. My hair, which had been thoroughly wet with sweat, had half dried into blobs all over my head and so I refused to leave until I had found my hat. I am that crazy. Fortunately, one of the kids found it and saved me from either their frustrated response or my needing to wrap my head in a turban.

Oh, little Pacific Dorfman hat with the mesh crown, I love you.

And one more “Oh” – I want to thank my grandson who patiently untangled four long extension cords so we could range freely with the weed-eating. That was not a fun task for him. We weed-ate until we ran out of string; I imagine we would have stopped eventually but we could have become obsessed and kept on weed-eating forever and ever, Amen.

I am going to try the super lazy tactic again today and something tells me I will succeed. You know, the old try, try again mantra.

I knew I had wandered away from the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse; I just did not realize how long I’d been gone. The days are somewhat of a blur, but the screen door has slammed behind me again as I returned . . . only no one yelled “AmeliaJake” like they yelled “Norm” on Cheers. Well, that’s okay, I’ve still got a place to sit and sip.

Some things did escape my attention. One of them was a plant that was included in a basket sent to Alison’s mother’s funeral. We had taken out all the separately potted plants from the arrangement for re-potting and somehow this one plant wound up on its side and under a couple of books.

I saw the little pot sticking out, sort of like the witch’s feet from the house in The Wizard of Oz, and quietly lifted the books. It was not a pretty sight. I picked it up and carried into where Alison was sitting and said her name softly, extending my hand. She sighed, “Oh well.”

I took the squashed green being into the kitchen and watered it a lot and let it lean; I think it’s deciding if it wants to try. I guess if it turns out to be terminal, I’ll just have to pull the root.