In a summer swelter

Most of the time my house is bearable. It may be hot, but the ceiling fans, ugly as they are, serve their purpose. I brag to folks who rely on air conditioning to survive that we don't use it and it's just great and we should all save the earth by cutting down on all that and blah blah.

There come a few weeks in July/August each year that just slap me in the face and give me a stern lecture about bragging about how well I tolerate the heat. Those days are here.

Everything smells. I clean, wash dishes, take out the trash, clean the litter box, freshen the carpet with that powder that's supposed to absorb oder. One second after I throw a piece of trash into the freshly lined trashcan, it starts stinking again. The dog and cat do nothing but lie on the floor. "Do something with your lives!" I shout. It's no good. Occasionally the dog will munch an ice cube if I give her one, but that's about it.

Yesterday I wore shorts. Shorts! That's a big deal for one as cold blooded as myself.

It's not all bad. Tonight there is a charity clothing swap at a hip boutique. I have been assured that all the sylish ladies of Asheville have donated so I'm hoping to score some fabulous threads for back to school.

I have completely neglected my front yard. I must go hose it down. Yes, I am officially complaining about the heat.

babysitting gig

Tonight Bill asked if I was going to eat the leftover pasta with pesto tomorrow. I told him no. He accused me of being a never eats leftovers lady and I told him that I couldn't be sure of eating anything tomorrow while looking after a wily 14 month old who just figured out how to walk. He's got an appetite for destruction and even opening the fridge can be hazardous.

I have my nephew Benjamin (or "Ajamin" as he and I like to call him) for tomorrow afternoon, overnight, and well into the next day. I love him crazily but plan to be exhausted. My action strategy when he is at my house includes letting him: play with the refrigerator magnets (the ones not easily swallowed), raid the tupperware cabinet, laugh at the dog, and that old standby--bang on a pan with a wooden spoon. He is currently both amused and fascinated with anything that has movable parts like a lid or a zipper. I noticed a caribbeaner clip today I think he will love. The problem here is twofold. Firstly, anything that does hold his attention does so for about 10 to 15 seconds, leaving thousands of seconds to be filled. Divide those thousands by 10-15 and one needs to have quite a bag of tricks. Secondly, said tricks must both be things that he likes as well as not destructible or dangerous. If you imagine a venn diagram with the overlapping part being the things that are both amusing to a 1 year old as well as allowable----well that overlapping part pretty much comes down to car keys and the old spoon and pan.

I'm also going to be feeding the little guy. I'm serious --you have never seen a messier eater in your life. I knew babies were messy but to experience the reality of the mess is a life experience. It takes me longer to clean up after a 5 minute snack of crackers than it does to clean up from a 5 course dinner for 8 (presuming that none of the 8 dinner guests has mushed food down their shirts and in their hair). Feeding him is also a bit playing Plinko on The Price is Right. The goal would be to get food not only into his mouth but also to get it to stay there long enough to get into his stomach. The chances of this are very small. There are just so many other places it could end up.

After the clean up we will begin the bedtime routine which sometimes involves a DVD called Baby Einstein Lullaby Time. This DVD contains soothing images as well as a story about a baby lamb who loves to--yes--sleep. This is supposed to entice the little ones into wanting to be just like the lamb and go to sleep. I find they want to stay up to find out what happens at the end of the story. The plotline is a little telegraphed for me but Benjamin always seems surprised when Baby Lamb falls asleep after the lights go out. Go figure.

I'll let you know how it goes.

the garden

I have reached a new milestone in my life having successfully grown a flower (several actually) from seed to bloom. The blooms are rather small. I guess I need to fertilize but one step at a time, one step at a time.

In our garden we have: tomatoes of all shapes and sizes, peppers also of many shapes and sizes, cantalope, radishes, sweet potatoes, onions, and some unruly watermelon that is threatening to take over the place. I don't care. I love watermelon.

I discovered this year that we have blackberries, lots of them. Some squash type plants appeared out of the compost. I transplanted them and they are HUGE. Sadly, I have been told that they may be some type of inedible cross-pollinated squash. We shall see.

We also have five varieties of hops (for beer making), basil, oregano, apple mint, curley leaf parsley, and flat leaf parsley. The curley leaf parsley is because Bill brought it home after almost all my flat leaf parsley withered away. It looks like I should cut it and put little sprigs on all of the plates in my kitchen.

So far we have harvested Chinook hops, some herbs, and three radishes.

Every time we are out in the garden Bill does a thorough examination of the hops. Then he picks one, no matter what I'm doing, and tries to make me smell it. "Smell all the lupalin glands," he says. And I do.

The watermelon vines are starting to grow baby watermelons. They are so cute I can't even stand it. They look just like grown up watermelons with stripes and all. Even my dad says they are cute.

Zadie the cat loves to hang out between the rows of tomatoes and nibble grass. She follows me around because the dog is safely behind the fence. When Barley sees the two of us cavorting in the garden, she starts barking and freaking out...so jealous.