No, actually, I have been down from the attic for quite some time; I am just coming back from the period of insanity induced by attic visits. Not that I have crazy relatives living in the attic . . . that I know of. It is just having a group of people simultaneously deciding what should go up, come down, be trashed is bedlam.

Then, of course, there is the triggered memory factor: There’s the  winter coat I bought Cameron when he was in first grade and he wore it upstairs right after getting out of school when my dad was sick and Daddy said, “He has a nice little coat,” and Mother said, “AJ got it for him.” At the other end of the spectrum is the Oh! Look! It’s a computer from the days before the Internet or Oh, look! It’s a stretched Mrs. Butterworth bottle made into a lamp. Cool!!!

We went at 4pm because it was a lovely, perfect fall day and we knew the area would be jam-packed. We had confirmation of this because Alison decided to take Colin and Robert (on a roll-a-bout) at 12:30. They called to be picked up about 45 minutes later and reported wall-to-wall people and long, long lines. The beef noodles from Brimfield United Methodist were in smaller containers and cost $4. Hey, I am not paying that. Pork tenderloins were $7. If Mother had come down, she wouldn’t have paid that. I mean, too much is too much. Apple Burgers were still $2.50 . . . and good. Our Bayou Billy cups were filled for only a dollar each.We brought home apple fritters.

I went with the former Georgia guy and Summer and they were dud companions. Sorry, but it’s true. And, you know what? I walked way behind them coming home . . . but their total dudness had already spilled on me. So I will be spending the evening scraping dudness off me and my duds.

Summer challenged her mother to a race – never mind the fact that her mother can go for an hour on the treadmill at a pretty good pace. The results were somewhat unexpected . . . or maybe not. Summer opted to take off her shoes after just a bit around the track. Grandpa did the color commentary on the flip camera and maybe we’ll post that . . . or maybe not.

But for now:

Summer, Alison, track at fairgrounds.

Oh, by the way, we also have and after race interview with Summer on flip video. Oh, so gracious in victory.

I didn’t turn my computer off last night; I left it sleeping on a shelf. I hadn’t looked at the screen in a while before I set in on that shelf and forgot that Summer had been looking up song lyrics. Had I died last night and had someone opened my laptop to see what I was last thinking about, they would have seen a screen showing lyrics to (cringe, cringe) “I farted on Santa’s lap.” I really hate the verb in that sentence, but nevermind that now.

I looked at the screen and sighed deeply . . . and then I looked at the Google search slot and saw where she had typed in “I farted Santa’s lamp.” Lamp? Santa’s lamp? See, now it was impossible not to tell the folks at the PBC&R . . . only I had to say that word, twice. Auuuugggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!

Well, one day into October and it was damp and chilly this morning and I feel like hibernating. Terribly irresponsible but quite inviting. All things awry exchanged for a guazy time of down-filled comforters and a cozy room. But, ack, I have to mow the lawn. Apple Festival is this weekend and the shuttle trolley, which is actually a bus because kids were yelling obscenities out the open doors and windows, passes by the house every few minutes. As my dad used to say, “They need a knot jerked in their tails.”

It came to me this moring – that term . . .the grandma stop. I was returning from taking Alison to work at the hospital and Cameron was standing there where the driveway meets the sidewalk. “Can you give me a ride to school?” So he’s delivered now. And I am on the sofa on the porch waiting for Colin to finish his shower and for the time – which is fast approaching – when I must awaken Summer, who has been nicknamed “the angry one”.

I am considering blanket-over-the-head mode for today, but it would be awkward for a number of things. Rainy and a little chilly this morn; about time to break out the DVD of a roaring fire. Hey, a little space heater by my feet and a candle burning and the effect is not bad.

I did it first for a joke, but you know what? It kind of works . . . if you can get past the snickering laughs of certain family members. It’s really pretty effective when there is a real fire going in the den and I can smell it. I need to shut up, don’t I ?

Why am I mentioning something as mundane as hedge-trimming? Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe because my grandson used an authentic Ghurka knife to assist those of us who were using clippers and snippers and a saw. I think he was born in the wrong era. Which gets me to thinking . . . I believe I’ll watch 55 Days at Peking – now that we’ve found part two. Ah, David Niven. He went to Sandhurst, you know, and was a commando during WWII. Which makes me think of the movie Sea Wolves. Oh, my, I have a busy day.

Pfalzgraff – Yorktowne

Yes, that is right. Each one was 25¢.