A disturbing trend

 No, rest easy; I'm not beginning a post about politics. I'd not poke that bear. You're welcome to peruse the news to regulate or elevate your blood pressure at your own discretion and under whatever orders you have from your doctor. Mine is a very first world complaint about something insidious and persistent and irritating.

The dreaded fruit fly.

I don't know if it's just us or if the rest of y'all have been accosted by fruit flies. I'm pretty sure it was regular flies in the Biblical plagues, and I'm trying to decide if that would be worse. Harder for regular sized flies to zoom up your nose, I suppose.

At any rate, I had a fruit fly the other morning that I'd whacked multiple times and it just Would. Not. Die. I guess I was getting a little aggressive because even Liam noticed. What I mean by that is that Liam is, shall we say, a slow moving vehicle at the best of times but maaaaybe achieves Turtle Speed One first thing in the morning. Add to that the fact that he had earbuds in to tune out the signals both natural and mom-made that he should be functioning in a higher gear than one uses while sleeping. 

He looked up in alarm when I repeatedly smashed my tiny foe into the table. 

"What's going on?!"

"This stupid bug will. not. die. DIE!"

*smash whack squish*

"HaHA! I got him! Finally."

Liam, smirking, quipped, "wow. That must have been the buggernaut."

And there you have it, folks. Yet another brilliant word coined by Liam the Lionhearted. You heard it here first. May the odds be ever in your favor as you face down your own buggernauts. Go forth and conquer!

Unseen-ums

 I've been "running" for about a year now. According to one of the apps on my phone, I have 20 documented runs, so that ought to tell you everything you need to know about my qualifications as a runner. I run. Sometimes. When I feel like it.

I wanted to go yesterday morning and was keeping an eye on the temperature. My watch said 61... 63... 64... 64... 64... perfect. I got ready and hit "start" and it said 68. 68?! What the heck happened to 65, 66, 67? Argh!

I went anyway and for a smattering of reasons (hadn't had enough water yet, perhaps shouldn't have had so much coffee, was burping my Raisin Bran, the sun got hot) had shorter splits than usual, which is okay as I'm only competing with myself. The further along I got, the better things felt. I was on the next to last leg of the running part (I do a fair bit of walking still) and was psyching myself up to finish. "It's right there. You've got this. You can do it. Keep going!" To my utter repulsion, two strides away from the end of the sidewalk, I hit an unseen cloud of gnats, hiding in the shade of a huge pine tree. My positive self-talk turned to a stream of "Gak! Pbbbt pbbbth pbbtttttth! Gik! Are you even kidding me?! EWW!"

So glad I could be a participant in the Cosmic Comic Humor episode. I'll be over here in my bug net...

We may need an intervention

 Some homes accumulate sports memorabilia. Some hoard books. Others tend towards exercise equipment, camping accessories, pets. There's no end to our love of collecting, it seems.

Our house leans towards coats. Holy cow, the coats. 

They're everywhere.

I swear this closet is an entrance to Narnia. Not only is it stuffed full of coats, and the shelves behind said coats are covered with wintry accessories and the floor strewn with boots, but the dang door shuts on you if you don't prop it open. If you're looking to end up in the realm of Aslan, this is the way.  

There are only five of us. I am afraid to count how many coats we possess. It's a ridiculous number. We have raincoats and stadium jackets, wool coats and jean jackets; we have at least three hoodies apiece and that's on the conservative side. I'm not even counting Dada's blazers, though some of them are also in the Narnia closet. 

Help a gal out. Does anybody need a coat?

And tell me, what does YOUR home accumulate?

Delish!

When was the last time you were pleasantly surprised? 

I’d avoided these crackers because “extra toasty” translated to “burnt” in my head and that didn’t sound appealing. Damon escorted us on a grocery trip and snagged a box. I grudgingly tried one, and now I want to hide boxes of them all over the house! They are the perfect balance of crispy and cheesy and toasty and yum!

You can find them at Aldi, but please save some for me. I gotta stock up.

 

And so it begins…

 Guess I’ll be running this autumn!

Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggety dog!

First day of school 2021-22

As it does every year, the first day of school has come and gone. Damon's graduated to middle school which means the bus comes at oh-butt-ugly in the morning. Right now, it's still light at 7 AM, but I'm not looking forward to the cold, dark mornings which are to come. Such is life. 

In the meanwhile, here's to never enough kisses and having fun in one's monster mask, haha. 

 

Morning glories

I've had deep purple morning glories for years. I love how they spread, how the bumblebees snuggle into them, how they cheerily bob in the breeze. 

This year I came across other colored seeds and was so excited. They took their sweet time opening, if I may say so, but they are gorgeous and worth the wait! 

I hope they make your day glorious!