Happy first day of fall, y'all

 

It has been hot enough that I still haven't wanted to bake, and that's saying something because I LOVE cookies. I owe some to some friends, so no, you guys, they're not lost in the mail; they're still ingredients.

Anyway, here's hoping we get slightly cooler temps, but more importantly, RAIN. It's been dry for... months? Things are sounding quite crispy and today is only the first day of fall. Could have fooled our yard!

Great idea. Throw a party then leave for the beach!

We threw a Chaos Party Father's Day weekend. Thing Three had turned 15, Dada had turned 50, and I was (mostly) done with cancer treatment, so we figured it was a good time to celebrate!. 

That would be a skeleton on the stairs under the streamers.

There was pie.

And people everywhere!

It rained until about noon on Saturday, but cleared out and dried out so we even managed to use the deck! We'd been a little worried because we weren't sure how many to expect and if they'd all fit in the house if everyone came at once...

Cadaver was in charge of making sure everyone got a name tag and signed the guest book. You show up at one of our parties and we will put you to work!

Thing One and I were upstairs and stopped what we were doing to listen for a minute. 

"Are they playing Twister?!"

"Right foot green."

"They ARE playing Twister!!"

 Thank you to everyone who squished a visit to our house in admist all the weddings, showers, grad parties, and Father's Day bashes that weekend! We loved having you!

Next year there will be a Christmas in July/50.5 party so save the weekend of July 24/25, 2026!

Timber

 And once again I managed to load the photos exactly backwards. I'm going to blame chemo brain for the rest of my life! *sigh* Okay, audience participation time. Scroll down to the bottom and work your way back up here. =)

Thing Three is now taller than me so that gives some scale as to how big that root section is. We keep hoping Bosley will enter the underneath section and that the tree will magically stand up again, but no such luck... yet.

However, our basement stayed dry (thank you, sump pump) and our roof seems intact. Definitely blessed to add intact house and cars despite trees crashing down and figuring out logistics to deal with that mess. Thank you to those of you who've reached out to check on us. We're all good! Please pray hard for and help others who were not so fortunate. It seems like the more I read the news, the more I wonder how insurance companies still want to be in business at all between the fires and floods! Stay safe out there, people. We aren't even halfway through April! 

Darn near full ditches and the arrested fall of the pine tree.

Dada's 30th birthday present also toppled over and that is one heavy sucker so it gives me a very good idea of how hard the wind was blowing. It has been righted but not yet used, so here's hoping it still works. If not, you know what Dada will be getting for his 50th birthday...

Along with the buckets of rain, we got the wind. Miraculously, our party lights survived and didn't get smashed to the ground by falling branches. Nor did our playhouse get squished when a big pine tree decided enough was enough and toppled over, taking my clothesline with it, only to be sort of arrested by a locust tree...

Sorry the screen got in the way, but look way out towards the far trees on the horizon. Those are all fields up to the trees, and you can see all that shining water. There's not supposed to be a lake there! We've had geese and ducks wading in fields all week.

These woods out back edge our property line and you can see the low, pond-ish area in there. Last year we dug out some small trenches to help get the water to drain from the perpetual puddle in the woods to the drainage ditch. We had just cleaned out those trenches the weekend before all this rain hit, so it was immensely gratifying to see them running full!

The kids generally call this right side The Leak because on the other side of the treeline is our neighbors' pond and the whole area is low enough that we get water laying there forever as well as the lobster-looking crayfish and their mud towers. However, it's not usually that deep OR anywhere near that bad on the left side of the driveway...

We had tons of rain during those storms that were dumping water all over the central US. Welcome to mud season, for sure. Some of these photos were taken from upstairs windows to get better vantage points. I don't remember seeing water pretty much from the fire pit to the garden before...

A luxury state of mind

 Today is our first day of bona-fide summer vacation. I had somewhat planned to attempt an outside run this morning, but upon awakening I realized it was raining. It is so nice to stay in bed and listen to the rain. I thought, "what luxury!"

Then I realized that was just the tip of the iceberg. Here I was, in a bed, which I only have to share with my husband, not all of my children, and no pets or livestock. Our bed is a real bed- not made of straw/sticks/leaves in a sack- it's raised off the floor, we don't require mosquito netting. It's in our bedroom, with a door, and our children each have their own places to sleep also off the ground and without bug nets. There is a roof over our home which has many rooms- so many I can't keep it all clean. We share our home as we wish, but again don't have livestock in the downstairs or chickens or things of that nature. We live a life of luxury, yet we don't often recognize let alone appreciate it. It reminded me to give thanks, not just for the lovely sound of rain, but for all that we have. Our blessings runneth over. Don't sweat the small stuff- revel and delight in your own big picture. I bet if we all made lists of blessings that we would be astounded. Happy hump day!

Award winning

 I hereby declare, in an officially fancy-looking font, that Thing Three is certifiably the World's Worst Umbrella Holder. He is legit, folks. 

I should back up. Last week, I went for a walk in the rain all by my onesies, as Captain Jack Sparrow says. I don't mind rain. I have boots and I have, in theory and in name, a raincoat, and even a rain hat. 

Well, I forgot the hat but I did have my hood. I schlepped along pretty contentedly, skirting puddles and obvious mud-sucking areas. My good-for-nothing bangs snuck out from underneath my hood and began to drip water down into my face and along the sides of my hood. I stopped to shake like a dog a few times as my "raincoat" isn't truly waterproof, at least not anymore, and I'd rather get the wet off before it soaks in. 

I did about three miles and laughed at myself in the mirror when I got home. For the first time in a long time, I was wearing colorful eye shadow and some of that had run along with the not waterproof colorful mascara. All in all, I looked like a sad water color painting, haha.

I texted all that to my bestie, who asked where my bumbershoot was. I told her that I hated umbrellas because they always either turned inside out or busted, and I'd rather just be in my hood and/or rain hat and hope for the best. She laughed and agreed.

This morning it wasn't truly rainy, but very wet and drippy and heading towards foggy after a night of rain and temps in the low 40's. I figured it'd be a good day to wait at the bus stop under one of our big umbrellas. Damonater, dancing with delight, announced he'd love to hold the umbrella. However, he had difficulties getting it open, so he returned it to me. Voila, I found the button and WHOOSH. Inside out. First thing. Not even out in the wind. There's me standing there, holding what looks like an enormous flower beginning to open, huge drips of water from our oak trees plummeting down around us, this fool laughing beside me. *siiiiiiiiiiiigh*

After some good-natured piratey, black scribble griping, I got the darn thing set to rights and it actually stayed put. He took over from there but I sure didn't stay any drier. I try to watch down the street for the bus and he holds it so it blocks the horizon. He straightens it uprightish and tilts it back so it catches wind from the passing cars. It's still dark out there at 7 AM and this kid is cackling, "I LOVE umbrellas! They're so fun!"

"Child. It's purpose is to keep us dry. Hold it over us!"

*more waggling around* Bear in mind the child is 12. Twelve!

"Ahem. I can't see if the bus is coming. Hold it UP."

*more spinning and giggles*

"You are officially The World's Worst Umbrella Holder Ever."

"Yeah. I'm a doofus." *more chortling*

Oh my stars. One of us is going to end up at the funny farm for sure. At least there I'll be dry...

Twelve years of the Damonater

Another school year on the books; last day of sixth grade for the Damonater. Dada and I had to perform the traditional we-must-embarrass-you-at-the-bus-stop ritual which included sign and pirouettes from Dada. He threatened to wear a pink tutu while he did them... methinks I should find elastic and pink tulle and call his bluff. Watch out, Damon- Dada might actually have a tutu for the last day of seventh grade next year!

So then this kid went and had a birthday. Yes, for those of you keeping track, I didn't forget the firstborn's (again), but these pictures were easier to access and therefore get to go first. Since this kid loves A) anything water related and B) sugar, he got a fair amount of gifts relating to one or the other. 

Yes, that is indeed the Christmas tree still up in the sunroom. Don't judge. Let's talk about that: Honey is terrified of not just storms but also precipitation. We have a metal roof. It is incompatible with her terror of water coming down from the sky. Especially if there is lightning or thunder involved. Therefore, if we leave the tree on like a big nightlight, she is a little bit less affected by the variations of darkness versus darkness with lightning. We also play music through multiple rooms if we know it's going to rain. And we leave the basement door open. Any mixture of those actions may or may not invoke a night of sleep for the rest of us, or she may still decide to bull her way through the baby gate into the kitchen with an almighty racket which then leads to sleep deprived family members staggering downstairs into the light and music to reinstall said gate and grumble. I actually spent a night in our playhouse out back this week so that I could sleep through a rainy night and not have to deal with her. So yes, tree is still up. 

Or the short version, we're supposed to keep the Christmas spirit in our hearts all year long.

Or the shortest version, we like it lit up.

Yes, that's an 8 on the cake along with four red candles. Dada was in charge of the math and he declared that two red candles plus the 8 equaled 10 and then two more red candles makes twelve. 

How can our baby be twelve?

He was laughing about the difference in our skin tone and I told him I've been sitting at his baseball games and working in the garden and he'd been in a shirt in school, so it wasn't a fair comparison. He'll get there. While we protected his arms and neck and ears his first day at the pool this summer, his nose burned and then his mask rubbing made it blister which he then peeled off, hence the scab(s) on his nose.

I was tremendously pleased with his cake. I figure it's Grandma Barb worthy, and that's high praise. It's all gone now, so I must have done something right!

 

Quack, quack, waddle, waddle

 Damon had a baseball game scheduled for last night. It had rained off and on all day, and we were told that the Board president would make the call at 3:15. If no game, we had batting practice scheduled for an hour at an indoor facility. The firstborn would need picked up from work after the game. I was fervently hoping for a cancellation.

It was game on.

Of course it was. You knew it would be. 

So I popped a big umbrella into Pepe the Pilot, along with both my raincoat and a hooded wool coat, a camp chair was already in the back, and put on my waterproof pants and rainboots. 

I figured I was all set.

When I got there, I looked at the umbrella and thought, "that thing is huge. I'm going to block a lot of people's line of sight, and if I really need an umbrella that badly, surely they'll call the game for rain." So I left it in the car.

I put on the raincoat, thinking I didn't want to smell like a wet sheep in my wool coat, and that I'd have something warm and dry to put on or over the kid on the way home.

Assuming I'd stay drier in a chair I brought instead of on the wet bleachers, I set up my camp chair and figured if I stayed put, everything under me would stay dry.

You can see the puddle forming on the far side of the yellow curb. The field we were scheduled for had a huge puddle at first base already. The boys were testing the depth of the various ones around the dugout. I thought, "welcome to Mudball 2022."

The men in charge decided to switch fields. The handful of parents there loaded up their umbrellas and various other items and we meandered to the other field, which was positioned at a 90 degree angle to how we had been facing along the third base dugout at the original field. Now the not-quite-rain-but-decidedly-more-than-mist was blowing into the remnants of my eyelashes and face. Thankfully, it was still around 60 degrees and the wind wasn't nearly as bad as it has been other evenings. 

Well, let's just cut to the chase and say that my waterproof clothing... wasn't. Or the rain was steadfast enough to penetrate everything patiently. Incidentally, camp chairs are shaped like bowls and made of a fabric which sucks up and retains water. Guess who felt the equivalent of a kid's plastic IKEA cup of water being dumped into the bottom of my pants when I shifted positions? Yes, that's the face I made, too. 

The boys came out in their last inning with towels crammed under their hats. There had been amazingly few slides. Parents cracked up most of the times the pitcher picked up the ball, shook wet sand off his hands, rubbed the ball on his pants or on his towel or on whatever looked remotely close to dryish, then looked around in dismay for somewhere to stash said towel. You could see him thinking, "I don't want it in my back pocket, but I can't leave it in the soup that is the pitcher's mound..." 

The kids were terrific. I didn't hear a complaint out of them. There were some errors, as happens at this age, and it wasn't a high scoring game, but I think they had a good time anyway.

We made it home, both of us soaked to the skin, and Damon declaring, "I'm wearing three layers and my underwear is still wet!" I hear ya, buddy. My fingers were pruney and I wasn't even doing anything. I've actually stayed drier after being thrown into a swimming pool. 

But, being water resistant, we dried off and warmed up, I collected the firstborn and the baseball player conked out, warm and toasty in his jammies, full of toast. 

I think we will not be waterlogged by the time Friday's game rolls around...

Garden status

Many, much tomatoes. Come on over and get some- we have bajillions so help yourselves!

Marigolds and borage, both of which came up on their own. I planted marigolds but nobody came up where I put them!

Pretty sure this is a baby spaghetti squash. That's what I'm hoping!

It's been really hot and dry this week, but that's all to change. It must be perfect tomato weather- some good soakings followed by time to dry out. They're going crazy.

One of the spaghetti squash mounds. Keep your fingers crossed!

 

How’s your summer going?

 We’ve had, like many of you, a series of storms pass through this week, which doesn’t bode well for me getting sleep. This isn’t a pity post, it’s just a “oh, that’s why she is making less sense than usual,” notification. 

I happen to love storms and especially love listening to them. They remind me of camp, both as a camper on Lake Erie and as a counselor in the hills and forests surrounding the Allegheny River. Something so comforting about hearing the storms roll down the river, thunder kabooming over your adirondack, branches blowing in the wind, rain dripping off the leaves. I love it all.

However, our Great Pyrenees does not. Not even one little bit. She starts panting and drooling all over the floor as she paces, so it’s slippery inside and nobody wants to be barefoot to then step in a puddle of drool. She also won’t eat, which then calls for vigilance on our part to make sure that Bosley, who will eat anything, doesn’t mosey over to eat her food. That tends to not go over well. Think siblings with only one last candy bar. 

“That’s mine and you know it! Give it back!”

“Then you should have eaten it, shouldn’t you?!”

“I said ‘give it back!’”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers!”

*fisticuffs ensues*

“Mooooommm!”

“I’m going to clobber you both!”

Anyway. 

The rescue from which we got her claimed she was crate trained. She was for the first two weeks, before she started dismantling and sneaking out of it, sometimes becoming stuck to the point I thought she was going to cause internal damage to herself. Therefore, we gave up on the crate, call her Honey Houdini, and just try to barricade her out of the kitchen as best we can during storms. We’re getting good with arranging baby gates, chairs, and random pieces of furniture, which she is becoming adept at removing from her desired location through sheer brute force, dedication, and persistence. I also try to remember to close all the curtains before bed and leave a few lights on to minimize the scariness of the lightning, and leave Pandora on to help cover the thunder. Maybe it all helps a little, but I can hear her butting into the baby gate from upstairs along with other, sneakier sounds, so I usually end up downstairs on the couch to keep a closer ear on her. She's been known to get into drawers, boxes, bags, (haha, "packages, boxes and bags") and I'd rather head it all off at the pass than have to clean up after the fact.

This morning she got herself into Bosley’s crate.. he weighs around 45 pounds and she’s around 100. He was not pleased. Dada said to just shut the door, to which I reminded him that, while I was tempted, she would just destroy his kennel and then we’d be left with none and they’d both be loose. Neither of them can be trusted farther than you could throw them, so thanks but no thanks. Somehow she managed to turn herself around and got back out, but it was photo worthy anyway for your entertainment:

We've not had an opportunity to see the Perseid meteor shower yet because of the rain, but we've had some breaks in the weather with beautiful skies. 

I had just told Dada yesterday that I'd planted some additional, different morning glory seeds this year because we have bajillions of purple ones annually and I wanted some new friends to smile at, and I was lamenting that none of them had come up. I have an almost solid wall of them in the garden behind the garage and they are lovely. 

Then first thing this morning, I spotted this guy! YAY!!

I didn't get a good shot of it, but the clouds and rain were so cool the other day in different sections of the sky.

As most of you know, Dada and I have this ongoing argument over what is a flower versus what is a weed. To my consternation, these cheerful blue roadside flowers are called "Blue Weed." Figures. I love how they contrast with whatever the vibrant yellow flowers are and against the deep soybean green, which is one of my very favorite greens. This picture doesn't do the Blue Weed justice.

After the rain

We got some actual rain yesterday, which Honey wasn't happy about as she despises thunder and heavy downpours, but everybody in the garden was happy about it! Even the Damonater ran around outside barefoot and in his pajamas to experience the puddles and the drips from the trees and the rain itself. No pictures of that, sorry; I was too busy laughing at him to get my phone. You'll just have to use your imagination.

These morning glories always make me think of Grandma Barb as I'd lent her some to keep an eye on and they ended up taking over most of her front landscaping. She loved purple. They make me smile every time I see them.

I replanted peas as they are not hot weather fans. I put some new ones under the usual trellis but these guys think they're in a  race and have taken off running!

We are getting tons of cherry tomatoes, which is the majority of the tomatoes I like anyway (heehee) and while we have humungous "real" tomatoes, they're not blushing yet. Our Brandywines, Cherokee Purples, and Allegheny Sunsets are stubbornly green. I really hope they don't all decide to ripen at the exact same time!

I sent a picture of this to Muggin with the caption "es-ca-pay!" He's completely a free-range tomato plant; I didn't plant him, and I sure don't know where he thinks he's going!

Cheerful, Thumbelina zinnias who decided to all bloom en masse. They took forever to open this year!

There's a basil in there for comparison and you can see that some of those tomato plants are taller than me!