No, I am not running with them or cutting in a direction that a slip could cause a problem with blood. I don’t have any. Or maybe I do but I don’t know where they are. I can’t really blame others – I’m bad about grabbing any knife to cut through leather or cardboard or plastic. Of course, when I grab that knife for meat, it works as well as pulling dental floss back and forth on the surface. Actually, maybe not as well.

Finally, after all these years, I am hearing the distressed comments made by people watching my above usage guidelines. They were right. (I figure constructive criticism and advice travels through my brain at the opposite of warp speed.)

So now I want to get a little set of knives and guard them from those who have been doing as I have done, and like me, will not do as I now say.

But how to choose? I’ve always used stabbing potential up until now as a guide.

This is a complaint; I am going to whine; you are warned.

For years Crate & Barrel has marketed a whole lot of great glasses. I have my favorites for everyday use and my special ones. I depended on that store. Unfortunately, my own wits weren’t dependable, because last year they had a BIG sale and if you spent $100, shipping was free. Now, the sale was so big and good that $100 could buy so many glasses I just couldn’t justify it. (Such as where to store them) I didn’t think deeply enough to realize they were cutting way back on what they were going to carry. No more bodega glasses, no more leos, no more a lot of glass items I liked. I’m bummed.

Now they are diversifying and even have a sofa in the catalogue. Bummer. Bummer. Really bummed out now. Good Heavens – a sofa?

But wait, there’s more. Guess from where they are importing the double glass-sided bodum ones ? China.

Maybe it will help if I call their customer service line and tell them I am going to hold my breath until they bring back some styles. Or not. Of course, I’d have to use a video phone because otherwise it would be like miming  on the radio.

However . . .  I just happened to see this style which is made in Spain and has great reviews.

Mowing, errands, doctor appointments (not mine) have kept me busy. Reading a book about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran theologian who was hung in Germany shortly before the end of the war has triggered a reticence in me. (Hope no one was drinking coffee and choked) Yes, he was raised in a very intelligent family  – his brother was involved in atom-splitting – and in an atmosphere of intellectual discussion. One of the family’s unspoken rules was if you didn’t have anything worthwhile to say, you should stay quiet.

So . . . . gee . . .  I could be in a bind here.

Bonhoeffer was  upset by people borrowing Luther’s Hier stehe, ich kann nicht anders (Here I stand; I can do no other.) statement for their own agendas.  Groups like the Nazis, for one. But it sounds so good: Here I stand; I can do no other. It sounds so Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

I find myself wanting to say it every time I make a remark about house rules – such as no eating in the living room. So far I have held back . . . but I think it in my head, and, get this, I sometimes say it when I’m alone in the car.

Oh, dear, I should have heeded the Bonhoeffer Rule here.

Ah, yes, Halloween is on the horizon.

Somewhere we have a picture of Robert William dressed as a Raggedy Andy sitting in a bean bag – next to his dad in a flight suit, but the latter wasn’t a costume. I also have a picture of Quentin in a dinosaur costume – my mother made it for him.

A little suddenly-remembered aside here: When Robert William was Raggedy Andy we lived on an Air Force base where everything was, of course, super safe. So I wasn’t right next to him; he was trailing behind. I heard shouts and turned to see him spreadeagled under one of the giant dobermans that lived kitty-corner from us across the street. The other one was standing by his head and they were calmly sniffing him.

When the grandkids were little, we did orange lights and spider lights and bats. And Alison had a virtual cauldron of candy waiting for trick of treaters. This year, she’ll probably station someone outside with the candy, but I’m forgoing the decorations.

That is, I’m  going straight to a harvest theme and Thanksgiving. I’m thinking pumpkins and gourds and. as November approaches, turkeys and Pilgrims. Of course, we will turn a couple of pumpkins into jack-o’laterns; you know the drill: newspapers under the pumpkin, the hole on top, scooping out sticky pumpkin guts . . .

Now, LZP likes to keep the kids entertained in his neighborhood and this guy is already on his porch:

I don’t know if I decide to actually go to bed now if I will fall asleep or lie there thinking I could have read a few more pages. I’m thinking about it. That’s what I’ve been doing a lot lately – thinking about what I might or might not do. Even little decisions such as vacuuming up the dog hair or not.

I think other people have periods like this – a blahness; not really feeling blue, just not having any sparkles on your days, not all bubbling over with anecdotes to share.

Okay, I’ve decided: I’m starting a new book and then going to bed.

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.