The purple cow part of the evening
Well, the boys are on their way home after a big night of fun and a big morning of fun, mostly spent playing Wii with Boppy. My roles in the festivities were cooking and bath supervision and bedtime story reading and telling. All went mostly as planned although we never got around to the Little Red Hen because it was late and they were tired and we'd already read four books and it was time for Mr. Peep. Gibson has lately decided to be a vegetarian for some mysterious reason and he did not eat any steak last night or bacon this morning but Owen gladly took up the slack on that one. We had pancakes this morning and at both meals, Gibson did indeed make us "connect our hands" and chanted and made us hold our fingers in meditation style and ordered us to, yes, meditate, and he's hysterical. He also wanted to tell a story at bedtime "from my own mouth" and he did and it was about zombies and monsters and Frankensteins and someone's heart ended up getting speared and eaten.
Then he asked if he could sleep with me because he's afraid of monsters.
I said, "No."
He asked if zombies are real and I said, "No."
He asked if monsters are real and I said, "No," but we all know that's pretty much a lie. He doesn't need to know that now, though, and the sort of monsters he was talking about aren't real and so it wasn't really a lie.
This morning when it was time for them to go home, I told the boys to go pack up.
"Basically," said Owen, "We are packed up."
"Well, basically, why don't you go finish?" I asked.
They crack me up. I also tried to teach Gibson to fold. "That way," I said, "Whenever you go to fold something up in your whole life, you will remember me the way I remember my granny when I make the bed because she taught me how."
"Okay!" he said.
We trotted off to learn to fold by folding his quilt. I showed him how to lay it flat and then fold it in half to make the corners meet and then again, and then Owen said, "And now for the tricky part."
That was folding it in thirds so that it would fit into his duffel bag.
We finished it up and stowed it away and I said, "Would you like to try on this little blanket, Gibson?"
"No," he said. "I already know how to fold pants."
Well. Okay then.
I sent them home with a dozen eggs of assorted sizes and shapes and colors and the leftover pancakes and a bag of brown rice and millet ramen because I have gotten ahead of myself buying that at the Costco. They loaded up in the car and I kissed them goodbye and now, since I have started writing this I have cleaned up the kitchen and swept some floors and started laundry and ALSO, had a Too Much Nature Episode with a cockroach bigger than my husband's thumb which ended up with me doing something I almost never do which was to sweep down the Golden Orb Weavers webs on the front porch because I ran into a web while I was battling the cockroach and suddenly, I'd just fucking had it.
I did not kill any of the bugs mentioned. Not even the cockroach. But goddamn it! I am just tired of running into spider webs so damn big that I bounce off of them when I water the porch plants and besides that, they were anchored on the rocking chairs and no one in their right mind would actually sit on a rocking chair which had a spider web with a spider the size of newborn in it. Suddenly and with great passion, it occurred to me that this is MY porch and the spiders can just go find some other place to build their webs, as beautiful as they are. I mean, sure, they trap mosquitoes and wasps but not that many.
I am a bit agitato today. I admit it.
Here's another thing that's annoying me: The fucking spammer who is leaving comments on every one of my blog posts with a link to something I am definitely not clicking on. The names on the comments change and I have been, up to this point, diligent about going through and removing them. I know that some of you have been visited by this same Spambot. Probably a Spambot. Whatever. It, like the cockroach, is annoying.
However, I do not care to spend my life going back and clicking, clicking, clicking to delete comments. They are not ugly nor do they appear to be dangerous. So. For now I'm just leaving them and hoping that eventually, like the mosquitoes and heat, they will go away.
What else? I seem to have poison ivy. Or something. I'm pretty sure it's poison ivy because on my walk the other day I went into the woods to pee and the ground was covered with it and no, I do not have it on my tender nethers but definitely on my ankles and a few other places here and there. Just small amounts which are not really that bothersome but still...annoying. I knew better than to go into that part of the woods but I just really had to pee and figured that since I was wearing shoes and socks...
Well, I figured wrong.
And I dreamed I was in Cuba again and Hank was there and k.d. lang was playing at the nightclub where we were and it was awesome but Hank and I wanted something to drink, a Coke or water (I have no idea why we weren't drinking rum) but I didn't have any CUC's, the Cuban currency, only pesos from Mexico and besides that, I did not have my passport or any visa on me and they wouldn't sell me anything to drink which also pissed me off.
By the way, k.d. looked awesome and sounded even better.
So for some reason I am just being bitchy and also a little weepy but honestly, it's not as bad as it sounds. Here's a picture of some of my chickens.
They are scratching around the little fig tree and the mulberry tree. Free weeding and fertilizer! All four roosters are in that picture. Can you identify them?
Why should you and why would you? Is this a children's magazine? See if you can find all of the roosters hidden in this picture!
See? I'm even annoyed with myself.
Probably mostly myself, to be honest.
One more picture. This one from yesterday.
Maggie is looking at her book, which is one that Lulumarie sent to us three years ago before Ms. Magnolia was even a spark in her daddy's eye.
Well, that might not be true. Jason has pretty sparkly eyes.
But it's the sweetest book in the world. It's called, "It's Time To Sleep, My Love," by Nancy Tillman.
I swear, when Maggie found the book yesterday she said, "Here my book!"
Eighteen months old.
Isn't she just a peach of a girl?
Well, onward. I may garden some but since my annoyance meter is already busting a hundred the idea of dealing with ants and mosquitoes and sweat really is not appealing although the experience could break me back down to square one and be just what I need. Or, I may cut out a new dress for my little Peach Queen.
Options. We have options.
Let us all connect hands. Now meditate.
I feel better. I hope you do too.