Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

About that black widow thing. The day we left, the one in the cow skull on the table outside on the patio had had babies. There were literally hundreds of baby black widow spiders scuttling around in the skull.

And we didn’t just see one scorpion in the house – there was the (giant) one in the bedroom, then a tiny little baby one in the light fixture in one bathroom and another teeny little one in the bathtub in another bathroom. This one was the one who crawled out of the sink overflow on our last visit when hub was washing his face.

Nitey night – oh, and sweet dreams.

This is September. September is still considered in the summer season, at least until the 21st. Summer means hot. It means school starts and football season starts and Labor Day and the last swims in the lake. It is not even a little bit cold in September. Sometimes there are hurricanes, which show up in the summer seasons. Daylight savings time is in effect, and it stays light until 8:30 PM and you have to go out and water the yard and fight off the mosquitoes and wave howdy to your neighbors who walk by in their shorts and t-shirts.

September (at least the first 75% of it) is not even fall yet. Trees do not turn colors in September. Grass still grows fast, cicadas still screech at night, lightning bugs fly at dusk, kids play in the back yard and sell lemonade on weekends.

I feel compelled to mention this because inside of Michael’s craft shop, it is full-on Christmas time. They have out the Christmas decorations, they’re playing Christmas music, they even have out the Christmas-scented pot pourri.

Christmas is over 25% of the year away. Christmas is two seasons away. Christmas is a blasphemy when it’s 100 degrees outside and school just started and we haven’t even had Halloween yet, for fuck’s sake.

I love Christmas because it is special. It comes once a year, when it’s nice and cool out and gets dark early and there are corny songs on the radio but it’s ok because you know all the words and you don’t mind singing along. When you start Christmas over three months before the actual holiday, it is no longer special. It is passe. It is boring, and it will be crusty and smelly and old by the time December 25th actually gets here.

Haven’t had much to say lately. Last Thursday we went to Houston, dropped off the kids, drove 4 hours to south Texas Friday, stayed until Monday, went back to Houston, left back for Austin on Tuesday, then back to Houston for the baby’s first birthday yesterday, then back to Austin today. The kids are in Houston again because I have my surgery on Tuesday. We’re probably going to pick them on on Thursday or so.

I finished the baby’s quilt, started on an applique quilt, and I’m taking a quilting class starting next Sunday. Then the next weekend is opening weekend for doves at the ranch. I just want to say I’m exhausted already. I’m actually looking forward to the time after the surgery so I’ll be able to catch up on sleep. How sad is that?