winter already?

I guess we skipped fall. Two weeks ago it was in the 80s; yesterday and the day before, and probably today too, it stayed in the mid-50s. Or lower 50s, right raw feeling to me. The bugs ate the fall vegetables I planted when the calendar called the season fall but the weather screamed mid-summer; I ordered more seeds, but they only arrived a couple of days ago, and it seems too cold to plant now – even lettuce and spinach (but I’m going to anyway).

Feeling kind of buggy myself today; woke up with very dark thoughts. I’ve been sick with bronchitis, and the new doc wanted to put me on an inhaled steroid. My old doc once said to me, “Some people I’d never put on steroids. I’d never put you on steroids,” after a particularly ugly incident involving a phone call I made to a receptionist at at doctor’s urgent care center after they’d put me on steroids (”You work in the medical field and you don’t know what psychotic break is? Somebody needs to buy you a dictionary, bitch”) — The short version is, steroids make me a suicidal, emotional mess, but new doc seems to think he knows better than old doc, and said if the steroids made me suicidal, they’d just put me in the hospital.

Not if I find the razor blades first, asshole.

I will not take any more steroids. But I will take a hot bath.

A grandchild …

Last night my son called me later than usual. He had news.

He and his girlfriend of five years are having a baby.

He and his girlfriend are having a baby!

Trish is having a baby!

Obviously, I’m excited, happy, delighted. Now that all, each and every one of my four darlings (excepting the one in college) have moved out on their own, it has occurred to me that I’m ready for grandchildren. I’ve been proud so far that none of my kids have been caught with their pants down, so to speak, turning up a parent without planning it. It seems that more than half of the girls my daughters, now 18 and 21, went to school with are pregnant, or already parents … I’ve wondered how their parents, mothers especially, could seem happy about it, but now I know.

My son and his girlfriend aren’t teens; he’s 26, she’s 23, but they both would benefit from more education, more stability, more money, blah blah blah (wouldn’t we all?) before starting a family — but that doesn’t seem to matter, a baby is a baby is wow — a grandchild. Mine but not mine.

My mother-in-law, when my kids were infants or on their way, was forever bringing me baby clothes and baby blankets and all sorts of baby trappings that she’d picked up at yard sales or thrift shops or on sale somewhere, and it used to drive me a little nuts — I wanted to be gracious, but how much stuff does one tiny baby need?

Well, I was at the thrift shop today, and saw the softest little, cutest little embroidered baby blanket … I resisted however.

She’s only seven weeks pregnant — there’s plenty of time.

Wonder if the new baby will look like this baby — his or her dad at 3 months old. Strapping young fella, ain’t he? His grandma bought him that outfit…

Trick or treat

No, he’s not mine, he’s the neighbors’ kid. His mom isn’t too keen on having her kids on the World Wide Web, but since he’s wearing a mask, maybe she’ll let me slide. We bought just enough candy for him and his siblings, along with a dozen or so more goblins and goblets, and when it was gone, we went inside and hid — we’re turning into grumpy old people who don’t bother with stuff like Halloween.

This is the first year in probably 25 that I haven’t had a Jack-O-Lantern on the porch, even though my kids have been too old to legally (!) trick-or-treat for several years. I actually decided I would buy a pumpkin and carve it, late this afternoon, but by then, the Food Lion was all sold out of pumpkins and I didn’t want one bad enough to go searching.

The boy on the porch is one of four children — I can remember how crazy-hectic halloween night was when my four were young. What I mostly remember is fake blood, everywhere. On their faces, of course, but also on their hands, the bathroom sink, the mirror, the doorknob, on their clothes, on the towel they used to try to clean up the mess before I saw it …

Funny, I don’t remember too many specific costumes, although Duct Tape girl is hard to forget. The kid would never forgive me if I posted that picture on the Web, but it was a pretty cool costume. She looked rather like the Tin Man with a pointy hat. Had a little trouble walking though…

One year, my son was in a bike accident while a good friend was watching him. He jumped a ramp, against the advice of older, more experienced boys, and when he hit the pavement with his face, his bottom teeth went through the skin just below his lip. Fortunately, he didn’t lose any teeth.

Babz, my friend who was watching him, was mortified, although once the blood was wiped away, his injuries weren’t that serious. A few days away was Halloween, and a big Halloween party attended by my family, Babz’s family and dozens more. For his costume, my son wrapped fake blood soaked bandages around his head and various body parts, put his arm in a sling, and tied bicycle parts to his ripped jeans and T-shirt.

When people asked him what he was dressed up as, he told them he wasn’t dressed up; he’d just come from an afternoon with Babz…

Eventually, she forgave him.

cooler today, even

It’s even cooler today, meaning it’s almost time to stop feeding the fish. Once the water temperature begins to drop, so does their metabolism — by mid-winter, they will be almost motionless in the deep part of the pond. I have a $5 catfish that has grown to be big enough for dinner for two; you can’t see him in the photo because he’s shy, and almost the same color as the liner, but now that I’ve walked away from the pond, he’ll suck up the remaining food like a whiskered vacuum cleaner.

A couple of years ago, I had a similar big cat, who come spring (after a really cold, cold winter), floated to the top of the pond, still alive, but barely. I tried desperately to warm him up, get him moving, but he succumbed. The whole ordeal made me late for an interview, with, of all people, a fish and wildlife officer. When I explained that I was late because I’d been attempting to resuscitate a catfish, he just gave me an odd look…

Oh well.

Maybe the current big cat will survive the winter — if not, Kenyon Bailey should have a whole tank of them for $5 each, come spring.

Finally, it’s fall

I thought it would never get here, imaged blazing summer and drought extending past Christmas. But now that it’s almost November, we have a cool cloudy day, the type of day that would be perfect for planting spinach and lettuce and broccoli and peas, had it arrived in mid-September.

I’ve always hoped for a way to enjoy garden ‘maters and yard lettuce for the same meal, and that happened once this year — a yellow tomato plant (a volunteer) was one of the few that survived this summer’s assortment of viruses and blights, and lettuce planted in its shade produced a good bowlful before succumbing to the 85 and 90 degree weather of mid-October.