Kitties

We've had two new additions to the household during the last month, both the result of son Ron seeing "Free Kittens" signs along the road.

First came Prince Tommy, a tiger tomcat, whose purpose in life is to reduce the mouse population around the homestead, especially this fall as the field mice seek warm shelter. Tommy likes to climb trees. He's affectionate and fun.


















Then came a little black female kitty, with a white stripe down her forehead and white paws. She is one fast kitty, as you can tell from this picture I took of her.


















I tried again. She was posing nicely until Tommy came along and they decided to romp.


















Finally she hesitated and I got this picture.

A wee tomato

Carol's current challenge, as I understand, is to grow a tomato smaller than a dime. And I did. This is an heirloom tomato, white currant. I grew it in a large blue pot on the back deck.


















Will there be smaller tomatoes? Probably, but this one was sure tasty. And I ate this wee tomato on the wee wooden plate that my husband turned on his lathe.

Eighteen and I like it

Note: click link only if you want to play the song. I've been singing this Alice Cooper song for the last week, much to the consternation of husband and sons. It seemed appropriate given that I now have two eighteen-year olds in my home. When my sons protested my singing (and I'm sure it was the lyrics and not my voice), my husband said he couldn't stand the song when he was 18 and he still can't. Ignoring that it's Alice Cooper, I think it's this phrase that bothers them: "I'm a boy and I'm a man."

Happy Birthday, Ricky and Ron. I promise only to call you a man and not mention those times you act, sound and look like the little boys you still are sometimes.

Reserve Grand Champion

Recently I reported that my niece was Pony at Halter Overall Grand Champion at our county fair. Anna called one evening this week, as excited as she was tired, to give me the results from the Indiana State Fair: First place for her class in Pony at Halter and Reserve Grand Champion for all the Pony at Halter classes in Indiana. Only one pony was judged better than Idaho, but I think Idaho is the best in the state anyway.

See you at the Preposition

Rushing out the door, just slightly late to pick up Ricky after soccer practice, I called to hubby over my shoulder, "Ricky will be calling soon demanding 'Where are you?'"

"No," he replied, "He will ask "Where you at?" and you can tell him you are in front of the preposition."

With a giggle at his little joke since I could hear in my mind Ricky saying just that, I left. A minute down the road, my cell phone rings and Ricky says, "Mom, where you at?"

Of course, I responded, "In front of the preposition." And then the call dropped.

A few minutes later, the phone rings again. "Mom, where did you say you were?" And I just told him I would be there in 5 minutes. (I really try not to talk on the cell and drive.)

As I pulled into the parking lot, the phone rings again. Hubby is laughing hysterically. He called his brother about something and his brother said, "Where you at?" Of course, Steve told him "in front of the preposition." Confused, his brother stammers a bit and asked again with the same response from hubby.

Hoosierisms. It's a family affair.

(Yes, I did explain the joke to Ricky and explained for the umptieth time that he doesn't need to add "at" to the end of a sentence. Being 17, he insisted that he did not say, "where you at" but rather "where are you.")