and we are happily busy. Or busily happy. whatever. It just seems August is flying by! I am starting to finalize our school year plans, and line up books for September. The boys are in Tennis Camp this week and next, brushing up on skills (and enjoying time with friends). Their belongings are now on our property but the grandparents won’t be here until next Friday. 7 days and counting, now. Caleb has the oven pre-treated and the brownie mix ready, Grandma!
Here we are unloading the goods…it was the hottest day of Summer to do it, of course! Seems my in-laws are always here for that. We keep telling them how temperate and mild this climate is. Yet each Summer (for the last four years!) they “just happen” to visit on the ONLY 2-3 scorching days we will get out of the season. We apologize for the heat; as if it was our fault; climbing all over ourselves to sell them on this area “Oh, this is SO rare! really! Nobody here even gets air conditioning! You so rarely need it…well yeah, I guess it was like this for last year’s visit, huh? weird!…heh heh” I am hoping they don’t bring Yakima’s daily 100 degree Summers with them when they move down!
Claudia’s son, also named John, helped drive the U-haul and load/unload. He is younger, but the two men agreed when our families joined; he will not be referred to as little John. We have her John and his John in this family. There is something to that name though, don’t you think? It just seems to help create a high-quality man. My theory is that being called a word that is also slang for both toilets and unsavory/immoral male customers creates a strong desire to rise above the average Joe. (which is slang for coffee. which must be a relief. See Joe? It could’ve been SO much worse.) John hates this theory and won’t take my advice to introduce himself to new people as “John. You know? Like the toilet?” I assure him he’s passing up a great comedic opportunity here but it’s his loss, right?
Anyway, Claudia’s son came all the way from Spokane. It was an extra treat to spend time with him. The boys have always loved Uncle John. I have so many photos of them wrestling! John would start tickling and teasing my babies as soon as they could crawl. Sam won’t quit now and gives it back to Uncle as rough as he gets. I flinch to see them going at each other sometimes! I used to tell Claudia that if she’d control her boy, I would try to control mine! We are wise enough to see that as useless measures-they are having too much fun.
Besides it could be dangerous to get in the middle of all that.
Two of our four chickens has died, including my favorite feather-topper, Phyllis Diller. She had heatstroke (I think) in her plastic nesting box on the (oh so rare, really!) hottest day of the year. The other one “came to a bad end”. I didn’t look at the body, couldn’t bear to see it but John assured me yes, “something got to it.” John is my protector, always. Even when protecting his wife means picking up nasty dead chicken body parts. It’s chivalry, but also a tad of self-protection. I am sure he also wanted to avoid spending the next hour holding a sobbing girl.
Look at the range of egg sizes here. It’s so affirming to see once again, how this God er serve creates nothing in factory-precison. Only man is that boring. He puts similarities in icy snowflakes, growing boys, falling leaves-enough to know they are related but each is still unique. new. just a bit different than the one next to it.
That giant one is probably a triple yolk-er. (And it must have hurt the chicken that laid it!) But that tiny one next to it? It is Miss Diller’s orphan egg. What do I do with that?! Her last accomplishment.
How do I put her legacy in an omelet?!
Lego minifigures and creations set up on the kitchen counter, posed “just so” and captured forever. These are the photo surprises we constantly find on our camera. This has nothing to do with Summer winding down. This is a year-long activity that knows no season…