Summer days, when they aren't Tennessee Williams hot, go by like commuter busses on the BQE. The past couple of days have actually been nice. No schloopy surfaces, no cat spawled on the floor like she's dead. It's not, for now, unbearable.
There's small trouble in The Shire. First someone pinched my roses. Then someone stole my pot of marigolds. And now someone's tried to pull the thermometer off my front porch. They only managed to bend the frame down but it pisses me off. Management asked me if I know who would've done it. If I did, I wouldn't be reporting it. Sheesh. Amateurs.
In the national news, Mitt the Twit picked a running mate who was voted "Biggest Brown-noser" in his HS class. http://finance.yahoo.com/news/paul-ryan-brown-noser-wikipedia-131308008.html Is anyone surprised?
I'm 168 pages into Michael Lloyd's Bull of Heaven. It's a surreal experience to see bits of your life in a book. These people and places from so long ago, many of them dead and gone now, and here's the story of what happened. Michael doesn't spare anyone, either. It's a relief to see much of the truth finally out after years of rumors, vicious gossip, agendas at work. It goes with me where I go so I can snatch a page here and there.
It's looking like the tomatoes are going to come in all at once. I'll freeze some, make some sauce. That is, if they aren't stolen too. Hell, it'll be September soon. We have a gig here for Senator Illuzzi on the 22nd; I'm making a few dozen scones. And the Heat Fund rides again right after Labor Day. What to make? Stevil's birthday party is right after that. September is shaping up; I better enjoy what's left of the sod-all time.
The Beest has a new toy, a Kong catnip-filled Kickeroo, that she's crazy about. It's taken a beating since the minute I threw it to her and shows no sign of the abuse! She looks stoned all the time anyway- those half-lidded dozey eyes crack me up- but she's truly stoned now. She'll sit staring into space for a few minutes, then go curl up on her scratchpad and nod off. Little weirdo.
Kick has sold her house, a very low offer but the rental tenants wrecked the place (they even burned the bedroom doors in the woodstove!) and she just wants it off her hands. Another Bratt survivor who's put this place behind. Special K is doing well. Stevil is straightening out the financial mess he's in and hopes to be back online in a week or so. Strider's been superbusy. Niecely's Aunt Pat died tragically but they're okay. Great-Niecely is readying for her big trip to Vancouver. Life goes on, the Dude abides.
There's plenty to catch up with right here. Two blog awards I haven't gotten to honor. Monday Photo Prompts have come and gone and I've missed the deadlines. There's so much in the news. Well, Summer's winding down. If I don't get to it before September I will then. It's close to the start of the school year already, you can see it on the faces of the kids. Remember that feeling? Only 2 weeks of freedom left and then it's a new grade, a new teacher, new kids, new clothes, new shoes. Excitement and fright and grudging resignation. When the kids are back to school I'll be back to regular blogging. Until then I'll be doing like they do- staring up into trees, watching bugs do their thing, sleeping late...
Boxing Day 2012 Revisited
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