Yes, here I am . . . fresh from cleaning a bathroom. So, not really fresh, actually, far from it. Need to shower. However, it is appropriate I am already tarnished because I am going to give you a peeps link that Der Bingle says is “atrocious”. He’s right, but hey, I’m going to do it. Here it is. That is to say, it is HERE.

We have a new wise one at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse . . .  and without further ado, here he is:

Look what Der Bingle’s pal sent us:

We think he found it HERE.

It is 86 and feels like 90. It hasn’t really done that this summer . . . until now when Labor Day is past. We might get isolated thunderstorms this afternoon. Hmmm, I guess I mean to say the whole area “we” will have isolated thunderstorms and so the local “we” may have one . . . or not. Nevermind.

Tomorrow it is supposed to be 72 for the high, but it is not going to be a drastic drop today; it will just drop into the 60’s tonight and not climb much higher tomorrow. I personally would like a storm and then the relief of cooler weather. But, I do have to admit that I think the Ice Road Trucker climate would be too cold for me . . . at least out on the tundra. Maybe with a sturdy log cabin and big fir trees I would be content. Maybe.

I am not myself today – I have been doing housework, cleaning windows and pulling down cobwebs and cleaning woodwork. And vacuuming. I need automated scrubbers attached to my hands and/or an army of elves. I had a elf handyman once, but he kept writing down when I was naughty and I had to let him go. Come to think of it, that might have not gone over well with the man in the red suit.

UPDATE:

90 big ones and it feels like 95. I am so acked. I picked Summer and Cameron up  . . . and made sure to park in the shade waiting for them. We have not seen a thunderstorm, although it got dark just as I was ready to step into the shower and I rushed under the water and into my clothes to get the comforters that were drying in the sunlight. Then it cleared up.

Summer’s white comforter smells so good, having dried in the sunshine . . . and if I see her walking around with it on her shoulders while the ends drag, I will zip into my super grandma suit and leap through the air and land on her and pummel her.

Or . . . I will smite her; I have been taking lessons from some angel friends, but, darn it, I don’t have my license yet. I guess it will have to be a drive-by smiting . . . or a fly by night one. I suppose I could hire a hit angel.

Well, now that I am in the mood for smiting, what if she doesn’t drag the comforter? What then, huh? Oh, yes, there is always Joe Biden.

Dropped off Colin at the school and headed down to Fort Wayne so Robert could get a new cast; I took some pictures of the incisions pre-staple removal. Probably post them. Basic new cast – four more weeks – no weight-bearing. Stopped at Hallmark Store for a Yankee Candle in a jar and, guess what? – they had Macintosh and Peach, one of the discontinued scents. Got two drinks to go at the Marathon station and one of the weird looking clerks was talking to a man who was leaving. They were talking politics and the man who was leaving said that the Republicans were only for the rich and didn’t care for anybody. Almost said, “Hey, Sir, don ‘t be assuming I’m a jerk.” (Along with the little old lady puppy dog look.) Kept my mouth shut. The other clerk, an older gentleman waited on me, and he kept his mouth shut too.

Came home and worked in kitchen until fed Sydney on the porch and guess what???? Colin is home.

Okay, doing pictures now:

Aha – Der Bingle’s friend and others are heading back to Georgia, leaving Nashville and aimed at Chattanooga. They just checked in with a picture of the denzins of the backseat – California Lemonhead and Alien Poo. They are navigating and Alien Poo says the map is inadequate. “We usually use globes,” she told Der Bingle.

That’s AP on the left and CLH on the right. Invisible Poo is in between them. No, no. I kid.

So, while I was in the kitchen, going backward here, I made chili out of the home-grown tomato sauce. And I made something for the urchins as well. I have had a cup of the chili and am waiting to see how it is going to affect my digestive track, which has been a little touchy of late.

Ack, interrupted again. Maybe I’ll be back.

That’s for As Time Goes By – the British sitcom with Judith Dench as Jean and Geoffrey Palmer as Lionel. I was thinking this morning about Lionel – in fact, the episode where someone remarks to Jean that “Lionel is kinder than he wants to be.” That is about the best I can hope for, given my personality. I do not understand how kindness comes naturally to some people.

Just to refresh memories, here’s a summary from an ATGB site:

Their two characters: Jean and Lionel, fell in love during the early 1950s, but when army officer Lionel was sent to Korea they lost touch after a letter he sent her never arrived.

Both assumed the other had lost interest, but 38 years later their paths cross again, when Lionel returns to England to write his memoirs of life in the army and as a coffee-planter in Kenya (imaginatively titled ‘My Life in Kenya’).

Seeking an agency temp to handle the typing, he is sent a young secretary in the form of Judith Pargetter and after hitting it off they agree to meet for dinner.

That evening, though, Lionel also chances upon meeting her mother and his long-lost sweetheart: Jean.

But could their love be rekindled after so long?

I like this quote also, although I don’t think of it as often as I do the “kinder” one:

Lionel: [trying to get him to write a second book, Jean walks Lionel through the first time they met] I saw you, and I stopped breathing. I really did.
Jean: Aww
Lionel: I started again, of course, or I would have died…

It is up around 80% and it feels so  . . . . moist. When the temperature climbs, I suppose it will feel – oh, dear, now what is the word? Sultry. Yes, Sultry. It will be sultry. Because there will be an overabundance of sult in the air? Who knows where these words come from? Well, I guess Merriam Webster people do:

Etymology:

obsolete English sulter to swelter, alteration of English swelter

Date: 1594

Uh, is that because there is a lot of swelt in the air?

Say, swelt is one letter away from sweat. Coincidence?

I believe I am going to close up this post and get a grip on myself.

Just thought we’d remind you . . . not that we don’t feel for Shane . . . but this is THE Sydney, your buddy, the chewer or Doc Marten tongues. Remember when you found the second shoe on the second morning and sighed, “Sydney, I thought I could trust you.”

Don’t be surprised, but the Cafe & Roadhouse seems to teem with GOP folks. And a couple of BullMoosers. We don’t mind folks coming in and speaking their minds and wearing their political buttons and sporting their bumper stickers.

This election, we think something is terribly awry, but then we are not recognized analysts, so we will sit and watch and make sure we get to the polls in November. If Obama comes by and is a bit hungry, we’ll give him a fold over on the house – but we sure hope we don’t see that Biden fellow.

This is Hiram talking to you while AmeliaJake is out on the porch. AJ loathes Joe Biden. Cannot stand him. So we hope no one comes in here wearing a political button with his face on it.

Here, let Jesse and Frank demonstrate: Jesse will play the role of AmeliaJake and Frank is the man on the street.

Frank: Joe Biden.

Jesse: I loathe that man.

Oops, here she comes. Just act natural . . . doo dooo dooo, just sitting here drinking my soda and chomping my double crunchy with grape jelly fold over.

Yesterday, I started getting a summer cold and by the evening, Summer had informed me that it was her summer cold I was getting. Great.

Today, It is not a bad cold at all, but I ache a little, my head hurts and my nose feels as if it will constantly sneeze . . . but never does.

Tomorrow is my birthday; I will be 60. I understand the logic behind not being 60, but my gosh, to think of AmeliaJake  . . . 60. I am obsessed with it and I want to throw a tantrum and hold my breath until I get my way and am younger. There is a real flaw in that thinking – sort of matches one in my personality.

Oh, crap. I guess the best thing to do it just . . . have a damn miracle happen and I become Miss Sunshine of the Eternal Smiling Attitude. Auuuuuugggggggghhhhhhh. No, no. Please don’t slap me into good sense. I don’t need that . . . because it has never worked.

Pouting probably isn’t going to work either.

Now I have to go get the mop and clean up this ridiculous puddle of self-pity.

I am a piece of work.

Oh, yeah, I’ve been married 41 years today. For tomorrow’s activity we have just decided to make a bunch of homemade pizzas in a group endeavor . . . Der Bingle is here and all the grandkids. They do the toppings; I am the crust maker. Alison always makes one that is basically the produce counter . . . and it is soooo good.  Cameron goes for the exotic spices – I like his too.  We make Colin a hot dog pizza. Summer uses the toppings and creates art . . . then eats the cheese part of her creation. Robert is into double pepperoni. We’ll have a good time.

Just one thing . . . you there, you who are my heart . . . I will be missing you; I love you forever.