Yes, it is August and yes, the temperature is up there, but today circumstances led us to have a fireplace fire. We have been working steam cleaning the basement, having discovered that jerky grandkids had spilled a lot of things. We have attacked yucky gunk on three different days and today was our finale. It was cool down there so we . . . yes, lit a fire. And then we turned on a fan to guide the heat through the room and up “the cement stairs” and into the garage. It smelled so good and helped everything dry.

Now, I have announced I am fining people who make a mess down there. Fine them! Fine them! I say maybe tar and feather them as well.

And outside today the sky is wonderfully blue . . . a meth lab burned down in town today – maybe I breathed in a little too deeply. Yes, wonderfully blue.

We groaned in the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. Groaned, all of us. Joe Biden, oh, please . . .  If ever there was a reason to go to the polls and vote, this is a good one. I thought we had learned a lot about Joe Biden in 1988 and in Gail Sheeny’s book: Character: America’s Search for Leadership.

This is going to be some election.

Kathryn Feller and Alison in her room at North Ridge

Indiana from a rural road going not too fast.

Faster by the corn and the country road behind us.

Der Bingle found a sign on the Internet and he shared it:

Here is what it says in case you don’t read green and yellow –

Due to the frequency of human-bear encounters, the B C Fish and
Wildlife Branch is advising hikers, hunters, fishermen, and any persons
that use the out of doors in a recreational or work related function to
take extra precautions while in the field.

We advise the outdoorsman to wear little noisy bells on clothing so as
to give advance warning to any bears that might be close by so you don’t
take them by surprise.

We also advise anyone using the out-of doors to carry “Pepper Spray”
with him in case of an encounter with a bear.

Outdoorsmen should also be on the watch for fresh bear activity, and
be able to tell the difference between black bear feces and grizzly bear
feces. Black bear feces is smaller and contains lots of berries and
squirrel fur. Grizzly Bear Schitt has bells in it and smells like pepper.

Pottermom dropped by during her vacation to remark that she hoped our air conditioner was installed – it was – and to remark it had snowed while they were on vacation in Colorado. I wonder if they were in her Mini Cooper and if it had an incipient panic attack visualizing snowdrifts sooooooo high. Maybe she had to go out in the night and talk to it, reassuring the little car that a few flakes do not a blizzard make . . .

But maybe they flew to CO and rented a local car, one that eyed the sky and purred, “Bring it on, bring it on.”

But speaking of August weatther, I was born this month and that day’s high is a record that still stands. That was 60 years ago. My husband has  joked (?) that the Gates of Hell opened that day . . .  I’ve been known for throwing a few foot-stomping temper tantrums. Okay, more than a few. If only it were an Olympic event.

I looked over this morning at Thomas Bickle’s light and the bulb was out. Gosh, that sounds so earthy. Well, I guess it is the earthly part. Anyway, I went over and opened the new package of two amber bulbs that sat beside it and put a new one in.

It shines

Tomorrow we are supposed to have the new air conditioner installed; it was supposed to be last week, but the coil didn’t come in and it was okay because we have had really nice weather. At night the cool air pours into the house from outside and the days have been in the 70’s and low 80’s.

But now it is supposed to get hot and I have this feeling that the air conditioner won’t get installed for some reason or another. Oh, woe is me. If it does happen, then my intuition is wrong and that’s disturbing, but if is not put in, we will be hot and maybe we will never get air conditioning and die of heat.

But then maybe I think if I write this, it will cause the air conditioner situation to work out after all. Then that would mean my intuition works . . . just strangely.

My mother doesn’t like to have her picture taken:

Summer and I were up there shooting BB’s at cans. Classy, huh?

Ah, this is a Cheerwine Sunday morning in Indiana, so please don’t tell the Cheerwine Patrol who is on the outlook for Yankee Cheerwine Drinkers.