Apparently I suck at blogging in the summer months. (Yeah. You’re right. It is quite possible that I suck at blogging year ’round.)

I even got up with the birds this morning, and there still aren’t enough hours in the day.

And in case you’re wondering, the birds got up at exactly five this morn. I know this because I have not one, but two antique clocks that chime on the hour. The birds began singing on the stroke of 5.

Not that they woke me up. Mr. Kewlstuff’s snoring did that at around 4:40. So when the birds started their racket at five I figured it was either 1. Get up or 2. Attempt to smother Mr. Kewlstuff with a pillow. Since I’ve attempted to smother him numerous times and failed, I felt option 1. would be less hassle all the way around.

So I’ll try and bring you up to speed.

The garden has tripled in size since I last posted. Mostly because it hasn’t stopped raining since the middle of June.

Believe it or not, a garden is a difficult thing to photograph. This is the best I could do…

This is only about a third of it, but at least you’ll have something to compare it to when I post the next picture.

Let’s see. We now have $600+ into one of the dogs eyes. She developed an ulcer on her right eye, no doubt because Mr. Kewlstuff lets her ride with her head hanging out the car window. (Correction. He used to let her ride with her head hanging out the car window.) We’re talking oral antibiotics twice a day and antibiotic drops in her eye every four hours for the last month. Personally, I think we could have gotten her a realistic glass eye for about half of that.

In the meantime my car puked out all it’s brake fluid. Naturally it couldn’t be anything as easy as a brake line. Turned out to be a part that no one, including the dealer, has ever seen before. Making it very expensive to replace. Because it’s rare.

I can say with certainty that I won’t have time to post again before the holiday, so I’m wishing you all a safe and happy 4th of July.

And Crotchety, if by chance you’re reading this, I hope you’re feeling better every day.

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He’s been hanging on that same spot on the kitchen window ogling me all week.

Creepy, huh?

I swear his eyes follow you everywhere, just like one of those paintings in a Three Stooges episode.

And is it just me, or does he appear to be baring what look like tiny little razor-sharp teeth?

I think I’ve gotta lay off the Stephen King novels.

Oops, almost forgot to wish all the Dad’s a Happy Father’s Day!

(Geez, I wonder if “Tom” has any kids?)

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I can not even begin to describe the torment that is poison ivy.

They should be using this stuff to interrogate terrorists.

To take my mind off the itching, I ate my way through an entire pan of Ghirardelli Ultimate Chocolate Brownies.

Unfortunately the distraction was only temporary. I’m itching again, and I’ve no doubt gained a pound.

I hate to mix medications, but since this appears to be something that chocolate can’t cure, I think I’m going to spend the afternoon with a bottle of vodka.

It’s bound to work eventually… and with fewer calories.

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In case you don’t know what poison ivy looks like, here’s a picture…

Trust me, if you didn’t know what it looked like you need to study this picture.

And if you did know, then you need to pay attention.

I wasn’t paying attention.

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I normally don’t pay much attention to the news. I find it’s bad for my digestion. But this week it’s been kind of difficult to ignore the David Carradine story.

And it makes me wonder if I’m the only person on this planet that feels outraged by the media’s handling of his death? IMO, the details weren’t necessary. A simple “died suddenly” would have sufficed.

So despite whatever else he accomplished in his life, he will forever be remembered as the old dude who accidentally killed himself during auto-erotic asphyxiation. WTH. He had family for crissake. Isn’t it bad enough that they’ve lost a loved one? To have the details (and photos) of his death publicized as they’ve been is unconscionable.

No doubt Mr. Carradine would have preferred that his kink be kept private. I’m betting his family would have preferred it that way too. And since there was no threat to national security, I don’t see how the public is entitled to the mental pictures being drawn by the media.

Problem is, these types of “news” stories sell papers and magazines.

I will never understand the public’s obsession with celebrity.

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Another week gone. WTH.

At least my torment is over. The house paint has been purchased. I chose these colors - - - - - >
then bought the paint the same day so I wouldn’t have the opportunity to reconsider.

Notice the trim color is called “Pink Suede?” It looks a lot pinker in the can than I think it should. Ack! And I haven’t decided on the porch-floor color yet, but I do know I’m not fond of the blue they’ve used in this example.

And we planted a vegetable garden last weekend. Haven’t seen the sun since.

I still have hopes that in a couple of months we’ll be eating fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, summer squash and eggplant.

I don’t know when they hatched, but the Robin’s are now in and out all day tending to the babies. We’re holding off power washing the porch until they’ve left the nest. They look darn near as big as their parents. I think they’re just hanging around for the free room and board.

I may not be popping in as often as I should for the next month or so. Since we only get a few short months of decent weather around here, on the days that I’m not really busy I’m going to have to invent stuff to keep me busy in an effort to avoid all the invitations for various social gatherings that are pouring in. I think we’ve been invited to every graduation and/or wedding within a 70 mile radius. Ugh.

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I must not have been paying attention. I was surprised to learn that the long holiday weekend is upon us.

Doesn’t it figure, my desk is cleared for now, so I don’t even get the pleasure of ignoring the work until Tuesday.

We’ll be spending much of the weekend power-washing the house in preparation for paint. I say “we”, but I’m really referring to Mr. Kewlstuff. I’d help, really I would. But there’s some unwritten rule around here about women not being allowed to touch any tool that has the word “power” in its name. Understandable I guess, considering that time with the nail gun….

Anyway, my role is picking out the paint. HUGE responsibility there. ‘Cuz if you’re off just a shade, you have to live with the results for a long, long time. And worse yet, you just know that everyone that drives by will be asking themselves “What were they thinking?”

There’s a house like that in town. Looks like it was painted with a wet Smurf. Maybe the paint was on sale? Maybe the homeowner is color blind? Maybe the paint looked great in the can? Maybe they wanted to be able to give easy directions by saying “Just look for the big blue house on the right.” Hard to say.

So hey… if you happen to be in Home Depot over the weekend, stop by the paint department and say hi. I’ll be the one standing in front of the paint chips with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on my face.

Have a great weekend!

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I’ve always had great respect for nature and our planet. I recycle, I repurpose, I don’t use pesticides/insecticides and if I ever caught you littering it would not be pretty. I even practice catch and release. Well…. unless it’s a spider bigger than a daddy-long-legs. Those I leave to Mr. Kewlstuff, who surprisingly enough, is not afraid of them!?! (Personally, I think it’s all just an act, and on the inside he’s really screaming like a girl. Seriously, who’s not afraid of spiders? That’s just not possible.)

Anyway, the point is, I try to tread lightly. Leave a small footprint. Not interfere.

But after this week, I’m rethinking the interfering part.

The bunny story did not end well, although the dogs played no further role in it. Within 36 hrs. I realized the doe was not returning to the nest to feed the babies. By the time I secured the proper replacement formula, including the acidophilus necessary for their digestion, it was too late. Everything I read said DO NOT remove those babies from their nest. I should have followed my gut on this one and removed them immediately.

So, if that wasn’t bad enough…

Ya know, when that Robin decided to build her nest on the porch, my first instinct was to stop her. The Phoebe had seniority. But again, I didn’t want to interfere, and figured that they’d work it out. I thought the Phoebe had accepted the fact that her new neighbor was here to stay. They wouldn’t turn their backs on each other, but they dutifully stayed on their respective nests. Night before last, on my way into bed, I noticed that the Phoebe was not on the nest. After watching her raise eight broods over the last four years I knew she would NEVER have just abandoned it. This wasn’t going to end well either.

We checked the next morning. Two of the three eggs had hatched, but both hatchlings were dead. I suspect the male Robin had something to do with it. He’d been hanging around a lot the past few days, and since he’s three times the size of a Phoebe, I think he strong-armed them into leaving.

Again, had I followed my gut the ending would have been much different.

Yea, I know only the strong survive. blah. blah. blah. But from now on, I’m going to do what I can to make sure that at least some of the weak ones survive too. I prefer happy endings.

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You should know that if you were lucky enough to have seen Tragically Hip preform in Toronto this week, I am pos-O-tively GREEN with envy.

They’re going to be within driving distance here in June. I’m hoping we can fit them in……

Tags: Tragically Hip

Some notable quotes for all you Mom’s out there;

• “Mothers of teenagers know why animals eat their young.” - Author Unknown
• “Any mother could perform the jobs of several air-traffic controllers with ease.” - Lisa Alther
• “Mothers are all slightly insane.” - J.D. Salinger
• “I want my children to have all the things I couldn’t afford. Then I want to move in with them.” - Phyllis Diller
• “The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.” - Calvin Trillin

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