Summer’s End

A couple of weeks ago Michelle and J were here for a little holiday. At some point during our beaching, my camera got sand in it. Thinking I was clever, I attempted to open the lens box to see if I could clean it out. Yeah. Little pieces went flying everywhere.
Without a camera I lose my motivation to blog.
As much as I anticipate summer every February, I have to admit that by August I’m anticipating it’s end. I’m at the end of my Good Host reserves, the beach is cooling off and is beginning to feel more like work than play, and we are all suffering from The End of Summer Cold Virus complete with running noses and sore throats.
Mostly, though, after 3 months of play our real life has caught up to us and the things we should have been taking care of but kept procrastinating on are starting to turn into real problems. The cats need to be taken to the vet and de-wormed/de-flead/de-allthingsgross, the reminder being an 8″ tapeworm Entropy so graciously puked up onto my carpet.
This little event likely means that we got ourselves fleas and that means the carpets need a solid cleaning, and de-fleaing (whatever that involves). Even if the flea assumption is wrong, you should see the carpet, it’s a checkerboard of cat puke stains. Entropy throws up Every. Single. Day. It needs to be steam cleaned.
The gutters need to be cleaned out before they become a haven for whatever disgusting rodent that feels like making my attic their home. The roof needs to be de-mossed. The outside of the house needs to be sprayed for more annoying ants because while they may have vacated my kitchen allowing me to return the honey and sugar to the cupboard momentarily, they’re still lingering, having coffee and pastries in my living room.
I’m also pseudo-working again, having the luxury of no work through June, July and most of August, and the list of items I need to clear up on my volunteer plate grows rather than shrinks.
Then there are those tasks Steve and I have just ignored. We need a new car, which means we need to sit down and get the budget back on track. That means we need to stop spending money, which is really no fun at all.
And of course, the harvest. My garden was a mix of dismal failures and fabulous success. High on the list of the successes is the cucumbers, of which there are bags of them in my fridge. When I planted cucumbers I was thinking a couple of jars of pickles. I could probably pickle 30 jars but the thing I didn’t know about pickling is that it is some serioius work. Unlike canning a tomato, pickling requires cucumbrs sitting in a big pot and then daily skimming, for an extended period of time. Who knew? Certainly not me. So even if I felt great I’m not sure I’d be getting that excited about pickling. Maybe I should be making cucumber salsa…

She Be One Tough Bear

Claire has flung herself full-force into toddlerhood. Truth be told, any bit of baby that may have been lingering disappeared a few months ago. Time is a cruel mistress when you have kids.

She is certainly a happy little bear, quick to smile for family and friends, but pretty fearful still of strangers. She?s the girl grabbing onto Mommy?s leg and hiding her face when the little old ladies fawn over her. That said, the one aspect of her personality that impresses me the most is that she?s one tough cookie.

I suspect most little sisters are tough, and even tougher if they are blessed with a big brother as opposed to a big sister. This kid holds her own with Callum. If he pushes her out of the way, she doesn?t sit and cry and expect me to save her ? she pushes right back. If he tried to take her toy, she holds on tight and lets her displeasure be known. She doesn?t take anything lying down.

Lately the two of them have started wrestling. Seriously. They wrestle and laugh and think this is best damn time ever. I have to leave the room as I am not a person who sees any point to wrestling and I can’t sit around and watch. They actually fling each other off the toddler couch. This isn’t going to bode well for my sanity.

Not long ago the kids were playing while I was on the computer doing something incredibly important I?m sure, and Claire started to whine/whimper. Nothing dramatic, in fact it was mellow enough that I didn?t even look up. She continued to whine so once I was done sending that email or reading that blog post I walked over to her. Turns out that the kids had ripped out a board from one of the wooden toy crates and Claire stepped on an exposed staple. She was just sitting there, looking at her bleeding foot and whining. If I stepped on a nail I would collapse in a heap of tears. There would be swearing. There would drama. There wouldn’t be sitting on the floor quietly whining.

I hope this toughness is something that is a part of her nature; I believe it?ll serve her well in life. Keep holding your own, Miss Bear, it makes me proud.