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Monday, August 13, 2012

Middle of August Already

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. 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...


CarrieBoo said...

That is so annoying, for your plants to survive the flood and then get pinched! Grrrrrr.

Cat-nipped cats are highly entertaining. I must get some more of that. Just it makes me a little jealous. ;)

Mr Brown-noser has some "painful" ideas. Quite the team, aren't they. *buke*

Anonymous said...

We used to grow and dry catnip for our dear old Nick....we'd just crumble it up and spread it all over the carpet for him and he would lay in the middle of it like the drunk he was.
I remember that 'school is just around the corner' feeling. Hated it.
Hope your tomatoes escape the plant filcher.

Twisted Scottish Bastard said...

Nicely balanced post Austan, mix of personal and public is just right.

We non-americans often wonder if the summers in the USA are really that bad. How would you generally describe them?

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

How tacky to steal your plants. Some people have no class. Our tomato plants haven't yielded much of anything this year. Too hot, I guess, even for Georgia. And to answer our Twisted Scot's question, some parts of the U.S. are so bloody hot in the summertime, the devil wouldn't even vacation there.

Austan said...

Boo- Right? I was so pleased they'd made it, and the roses were really lovely. I guess too lovely. But why damage a freakin porch thermometer?

What a couple of suits they are. How does one even get voted Brown-noser of the Year as a teen? We were all too busy being whiny, stubborn, contrary and mopey.

Austan said...

Lawless! I love to see a nipped=up cat. They're silly.

Yeah, I don't remember it making the days sweeter. It was a pin in the balloon.

Thanks, I'm on nightwatch now.

Austan said...

Thanks, TSB.
It depends on where you are and how the climate's changed these days. New England used to be great in the Summer, warm but only a couple of weeks of real blistering heat and cool at night. These days it's warm and clammy all the time with rare relief at night. The further south you go the hotter it gets. Summer in Florida is skin-bubbling Hell, I can tell you that.

Austan said...

Susan! Sad to hear about your tomatoes. For all the humidity, I've had to water them almost every day cuz they just wilt in the heat.
Seems since they've moved the "transitional" people in (this will be family and single young people housing when we get booted), little crappy things happen. I didn't complain about the roses- I pinched some flowers when I was a teen- but outright stealing and trying to steal is where I draw the line.
I don't know how you stand the heat where you are!

The Elephant's Child said...

We have never had a cat that liked cat nip. Possibly inferior grade nip grown here?
There should be a special hell reserved for vegie/flower thieves.

Austan said...

EC- Two cats I've worked for didn't care for it. The cat I had in the 70s loved marijuana. ahem.

I hope there is, where they get their clothes stolen as soon as they put them on, over and over, eternally. And people point and laugh at them. Eternally.