I sat here just letting my mind wander long enough for my screen to darken as if flipped into its conserving power mode. I don’t think that is what I am doing – conserving power; in fact, my power usage may go up and down as I think about irritating things, puzzling things, the inability to understand some things. It is so hard to always realize that people are different and are going to react to the world differently.
AND THEY GET ME TANGLED UP IN THEIR REACTIONS. Just as I have caused other people to be entangled in my shortcomings in my lifetime, now that I think of it.

You know, I believe webs get tangled just by life’s breezes, not necessarily deceit. Though maybe we do make our own wind . . .(Oh, rats, I laid myself open to a pun.)
It is really great to be able to know about the past and all the scientific things we cannot see for ourselves. Believe me, I would never have conceived of an atom splitting on my own – or an atom for that matter. Not knowing how minds and personalities are determined is frustrating.
I would like to have a simulation of myself on a computer where I could make a synapse shorter or longer and see what would happen. Maybe grab a random chunk of cells and see if could still remember Paris.
Oh, wait, that was Bogart and Bergman.
Well, time to shower. Or maybe I could take a bath and soak my head.

When I was taking a picture of my cow birthday basket from LZP, I decided to also grab a shot of the piggy bank which Alison gave me. It is obviously a cow – like anyone would be surprised. But it is also, nevertheless, a piggy bank.
Quiet snapshot:

And when you feed it, it talks:

I wonder if I could get it to say other things? Hands up and give me your dough? Nah, that wouldn’t work – the coin slot would get all gummed up. And even if a diligent stuffer got all the dough in, it could rise and expand and the cow would explode.
So I guess it’s another back to the drawing board situation.

A long time ago Der Bingle went to Sweden; he made some friends. I have a lovely handmade table runner that the wife of one of those friends sent to me. We have Swedish Christmas ornaments and red wooden horses and I developed a real fondness for nice glassware.
Apparently, he didn’t tell me at the time about “apple season” parties . . .but he has sent me now a picture/story about Ol’ Ardidh. (His name comes from the Old Norse Arnviðr, meaning “eagle tree.)

Here’s the link. I fouled up this link originally and so Old Kook corrected it in comments. I have now added his correction here.

Well, you could see my new “sit-yourself-down-places” if I had not put afghans on them. But, trust me on this please: I think the afghans are better because you don’t feel as if you are sitting on  very large chocolate bar.

Jeez . . . couldn’t keep stuff off of it even for a picture. This is not a real afghan; I am not sure what it is. It is homemade and looks like a combo of needlepoint, crocheting and knitting and it is very thick. I have at time considered using it as a rug.
Does it have a story? Of course it does. The day after I returned from burying my father in Kingman Fraternal Cemetery in February of 2000, I woke up just wanting to do something – anything. While catching up on some old newspapers, I saw an ad for an auction later that morning. On the spur of the moment, I went. My feet were getting cold through my leather soles on the concrete floor and then
the auctioneer’s assistant brought this out and my winning bid was eight dollars. E-I-G-H-T.
I hot-footed it out of there and came home with my treasure and now I’m stretched out on it.
Now for the loveseat:

These are GoodWill afghans – two to three dollars a piece. They make it nice for Shane, and I like the harvest colors – cozy hues for days that are getting shorter.

I am at odds with myself and at loose ends because I have so much organizing to do that I know not where to begin.  Actually, it would not be so overwhelming if I could just point and use other people’s legs and arms and time.

Having walls that are giant shadowboxes with individual glass doors on each nook and cranny would help too. I could see all my favorite things and  . . . no dusting.

I ponied up the money for an inexpensive sofa and love seat set to put in my favorite room – the converted old north porch. And, oh, my, the stuff I found under the old sofa!!! Everything from dog bones to this teeny tiny miniscule little knife that I had trouble identifying. I think it fit in the sheath of a big Ghurka knife – sort of a little two-inch hidden fanglet.

And if I didn’t have enough mementos, all today’s electronic gear has all those little necessary pieces to keep track of: chargers – house and car, cords for this , cords for that, remotes, etc. I think I mentioned once before I need a velcro suit; I actually wear a fisherman’s vest at times.

Then, of course, there is that which I always have with me . . . dog hair!

Okay, I’ve blathered enough – for one sitting. Time to go starch my upper lip . . .

This is going to take some tricky maneuvers on my part – don’t know if I can pull it off. I have to figure out if Wednesday night or Thursday night will be Trash Night. I have to think what would be the best way share what is in LZP’s backyard . . . remember he had his tomatoes stolen. I’m going to do it this way – right in your face.

We don’t know if he inflates it or not; I asked Der Bingle and he replied, “I don’t know; I don’t know; I don’t know.”

October 16th is LZP’s birthday and I’ve decided one day is not enough; we need an LZP season. Oh, now, this is worth looking-forward to . . . for me.
Crazy laugh here. Imagine it. It’s more devious that way.

Oh, my gosh, the nightmare. No slimy monsters, no bad guys chasing me with weapons, no deaths of anyone – dear or not dear.

There was a bad guy . . . and it was me. I made one mistake after another and my life was on its way down the drain – probably into a sewer into which people had released pythons. The time frame was a jumble; somehow my last home was a slanting trailer that was the second floor of an old apartment building with a brick courtyard.

Not one bit of this seeped into that part of my sleeping brain that often hints “dream”.

But, hey, I think my cold is better.

I actually spent a second thinking about all my brain cells draining out of my nose with summer cold mucous. But, of course, if they all left, I wouldn’t be thinking at all. I feel, though, as if they all have dripped out; I feel like an ox-moron (and, no, that is not a typo).

I have no motivation – not even for forbidden fruits.

Blah. With sniffs and coughs.

The icemaker in the refrigerator has not kept up with demand and I am almost iceless. “Ruth, don’t take our ice to town.” I’m that pathetic: random phrases that come close to nonsense.

LZP arranged to have a box come to my front door. It’s journey started from here:

Included was this card:

It sat above the special space ship packaging:

Freed to celebrate in our pasture, the guys looked like this:

Then I looked among their provisions and found all this:

I just ate a cow pie and must say it is much better than the kind you step in. Sorry, one sentence too many.
So . . .
Thank you, thank you , thank you

I don’t know what the exact high today was in Fort Wayne today – or here – for that matter. Somewhere above 95 degrees with a knock you backwards heat index. Oh, yeah. At one point the thermometer in my car said the outside temperature was 102 on Lima Road.

Usually, I look at weather.com; usually, I have some inkling of the trend. But not this time.  So when I left this morning with two passengers for an extended trip including two appointments and a super important stop for skinny jeans, I did not have HOT in mind.

Later, it would have me in body.

But since I did not know it was getting in the high 90’s, I assumed the cooler nights had made me more sensitive to days in the high 70’s and low 80’s. Then I didn’t believe my car’s thermometer . . . Oh, it’s been on asphalt all day. I watched for bank signs and then grew much hotter with each one that posted 98+ numbers.

That’s me – had I not known the true temperature, I would have said it was pretty warm today; now I think I almost melted in a sweltering, energy-leaching  jungle.

And it’s going to be that way tomorrow! It will be a good day to stay inside and look for the hat. ACK! I had no more than typed that when I saw a notification of a comment from Albug about that very subject:

Maybe you had it on, then when you saw the mower problem you took it off to scratch your head.  When you were inspired to use the tree and the crow bar your head got too big to put the hat on and you left it behind the fence.  Then the dandelions carried it off to their hideout to use as ransom next spring to save their minions .

Time to call Dandelion Busters.