My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Pupas and Picnics


Last night – or rather early this morning – I dreamed that someone, some governmental agency, presented me with a $40,000 check and some odd cash for Red. Reparations payment or something. I didn't quite catch the reason. All I remember is thinking, "My god, the child can go to college now. How can I best invest this money so that I can double it and send both kids to college?" I am well aware that $40,000 will not necessarily cover a four-year college education in 16 years time. But, it'll certainly help. There was a small catch in that the check couldn't be cashed until Red actually signed it but somehow that didn't effect my ability to sock it away somewhere in a high-interest yielding investment account. Only that Red couldn't get her hands on any of until she could write her name. I don't know. None of it made any sense, as dreams never do in the cold light of reality, but I was thrilled to receive the money on her behalf.

Which has nothing to do with anything, really, except to underscore my constant anxiety over the future. And money. Or lack thereof.

Casa de FreshHell had a lovely, action-packed weekend. Saturday dawned sunny and chilly as we left for the grocery store. Dusty and I were also on the look out for yard sales. She had her change purse full of change (a scant $2 and some odd cents) that was burning a hole through...her plastic change purse. Our mission: Barbie stuff. Dusty really, though, just wanted to buy something, anything. I had to remind her that we were looking for something specific and needed to hold out for that. Not waste her money on any old piece of junk. Her father's parting words were, "Feel free not to buy anything!"

We found only one yard sale (where WAS everyone?) and Dusty found an item she's been intrigued with for awhile: a squirt gun. For twenty-five cents. Bargain. And it worked. She has since tried it out on everyone. No Barbie accessories were found, alas. There's always next week!

Dusty Quote of the Week: One of Dusty's favorite books is Who Needs Donuts? Its main theme is - who needs donuts when you've got love.

Apropos to nothing yesterday, she said, "Who needs donuts when you've got love? Who needs glasses when they've got a husband?" Who indeed.

After the errands on Saturday, we all came home and I constructed the fence around the vegetable beds – using my brand new staple gun! I love tools. Then, Dusty helped me plant tomatoes, green peppers and eggplants. She left the seeds up to me. Here's what was planted in seed form: cucumbers, canteloupes, zucchini, yellow squash, winter squash (don’t even remember what variety but probably butternut), two varieties of green beans, salad greens (a free mix that I probably should have planted a few weeks ago but – oops!), zinnias, marigolds, sunflowers and nasturtiums. Mmmm…vegetables. All that's left to procure is some dill, basil and chives. Which might have to go out front.

During all the compost adding and soil turning, I found numerous grubs which were tossed into the pastures. I also discovered some kind of insect pupa. It's huge – as long and thick as my middle finger (ha), brown with evenly spaced indentations like it was wrapped in a brown leather ace bandage or something. I have no idea what it will become but we placed it in a plastic container with dirt, rocks and some grass clippings. I covered the top with cheese cloth (yes, I'm probably one of the few people in America who actually keeps cheese cloth on hand – it has multiple uses!) and a rubber band. I'll let you know if this poor thing succeeds in emerging and doesn't die due to my disrupting it from its slumber. But, if it's a cicada, I don't want it in my garden. Sorry. Go eat someone else's leaves or whatever. If it's a butterfly of some sort, I hope I didn't kill it.

On Sunday, we went into town for a picnic/reunion for Dusty's old Beloved Preschool. The weather couldn't have been more perfect – sunny but not hot, breezy but not windy. It was nice to see Dusty frolic off into the unknown, down a steep grassy hill near the bison enclave, with all her old friends and not worry about her. Strange to think that soon she'll be more attached to friends and in less need of a parental presence. She's slowly sloughing off the apron strings and growing apart from me. Which is sad – for me – but good for us both, really.

Red had a good time as well though she stayed pretty close by. She spent a lot of time, while I was in the midst of one conversation or another and not paying attention, emptying other people's bags of food. At one point, she'd removed half the pretzels from someone's snack bag. Another time, she found a small bag of kettle chips and began to consume them. I think I may need a leash for that kid. If only to save her from overdosing on snacks.

It was a long day spent outside and Dusty and Red fell asleep on the ride home. Red stayed cranky the rest of the afternoon, her allergies reemerged and were making her feel crappy, so I put her to bed early after dosing her with benedryl and ibuprofen. She was asleep before I put her in her crib, one arm clutching her Green Bear and the other one holding Babo, her Ugly Doll. She coughed all night but woke this morning her usual cheerful self.

And this just in: Dusty continues to add to her What I Want For My Birthday list. It now includes: Barbie house, guitar, CD player for her room, chemistry set, and a whoopee cushion. She is thrilled that such a thing as a whoopee cushion exists – something that makes a farting noise that's SUPPOSED to be a fart. I think that one, at least, is doable. The chemistry set, maybe not so much.


12:14 p.m. ::
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