Good News/Bad News

Good news: My odometer in the Subaru turned over this week to a really fun number: 123456 original miles. (As a bonus I remembered to set the trip odometer at 123333 miles so that it would also read 1234 at the same time!!)
Bad news: The muffler on the Subaru detached itself from the rest of the car at 123476 miles.
Good news: When the STP opened the glove compartment to get out the owner's manual he found the Goob's phone which has been missing since Labor Day weekend.

Which just leaves me with one question. Why did the STP even need the owner's manual? To see if the muffler was supposed to be attached to the car?
Anyway, more good news than bad.
All in all...

This Old House

Our house was flipped before we bought it. Not exactly restored, but certainly repurposed. People will just stop by when we are outside and tell us how much they like what we have done to the place and what a difference it is from what it used to be. We have no idea what it used to be, but yesterday two middle school boys came to the door to buy a candy bar from the Goob. (He is such a good salesman that instead of going door-to-door he has people coming to him.) I invited them to step inside. And they mentioned that the house was really different. And I asked them if they had been in it before it was redone. And they said yes. In fact they used to play in the house when it was empty. They just crawled in through the back window. Now I am really curious to see some before pictures.

Bumper Cars

This is the bumper that exchanged paint samples with the side of the garage. It sported blue stripes for a few weeks--a reminder of my sad backing up abilities. My loving husband noticed the scrape within 12 minutes of it happening. He asked what happened but was kind enough not to make a big deal out of it. (It wasn't like I had scraped the bumper on his car or anything.) Several weeks later, the youth group was having a car wash and one youth leader polished the blue paint off of the bumper, leaving just a few nondescript black scratches. When I saw this extraordinarily kind gentleman on Sunday, I told him how much I appreciated that act of paint removing kindness. And his response was, "That's Jesus." Say what? And then I was thinking how much like Jesus that was. When I am a big screw up, Jesus doesn't get mad at me and He doesn't yell at me and He doesn't keep asking me questions about it. He is kind and forgiving like the STP. But then He goes one step further and He patiently scrubs off the paint. The paint that no one else is willing to get close to. (Because maybe it will rub off on them or something.) The paint that I think I have to drive around with the rest of my life like some kind of penance for being a screw-up in the first place. Annnouncing to the world, "Steer clear. I can't back up!" You gotta love that kind of forgiveness.
Oh yeah, that's Jesus--the paint remover.

Weather, As Usual

This is what it looked like when I was leaving for work yesterday morning. Even though the weather man says this is 30 degrees below the average for this time of year, I am beginning to think this is usual weather for here, and I might as well just get used to it.

Rhoda Horse

And stayed on.

Life in a Vacuum

While the BGITW was here I was running my very sucky vacuum cleaner in the living room. She asked her mom, "What is that?" This is just one generation away from the girl who asked, "Whose vacuum is that?"
My mom vacuumed every day. She covered up all the hardwood floors in the house with wall to wall carpet. She wore out vacuums.
I have a very sucky vacuum that I run whenever I feel like it or when the dog hair becomes visible.
Two thirds of my daughters do not own a vacuum cleaner but I think they would recognize one if they saw it. The third daughter owns her vacuum because her parents bought it for her when she went away to college. She used it at the end of each school year.
My granddaughter does not know what a vacuum is. I'm guessing she wouldn't recognize an iron either.

The Harvest-A Garden Tale

There was snow on the mountains this morning and there is a frost and freeze warning for the basin tonight. So I had to rush home from Dodge City Federal this afternoon and harvest my tomato crop. You may recall that once upon a time I planted a tomato plant. And earlier in the summer I nearly lost the entire crop in a hailstorm. This was by far my best year for tomatoes. Neither the STP nor the Goob were here to help me, so I had to bring in the harvest by myself. And while I was at it, I just went ahead processed the whole thing myself as well. And who was here to help me stir the pot? Just myself. But I am no Henny Penny, er, Chicken Little?, er, lil chickie... (I had to google "chicken work who will help me"!) ...LITTLE RED HEN! Oh no, I shared the fruits of my labor with the STP and the Goob. I made quinoa pasta elbows with a tangy meat sauce. Such a noble end for my one tomato.

And then I did the dishes all by myself. I guess that's kind of like a fairy tale ending to my garden season.