All I Have to Say is

It’s stinkin’ hot.

I’m melting over here.

Moving to Portland tomorrow.

Other news:

Had a baby.  At home.

You can just feel the empowerment, can’t you?  Gonna write more about that as soon as I get a moment in between:

child-minding

gardening

cooking (ok, not really. too hot. must just eat ice cream instead. also, bacon.)

gardening

obsessing about the garden

getting behind on the huge stack of books I ambitiously checked out from the library because I can’t seem to control my book-portions despite have about 2.4 nanoseconds per day to read.

Also, did I mention the garden.  We are on Round Two Final Chance Or You Are Becoming Grass-seeded Open Turf Again on the main flower bed for this year.

Ok, apparently I’m going to tell you all about this so:

It’s either been hot as blazes thereby shrivelling all my seedlings into crisp little nothings or

it’s been raining maelstroms and pounding both seeds and seedlings into the earth.

So last week I dug out all the weeds which flourishethed like the green bay tree, raked it all out and scattered the appropriate fast-growing annual seeds throughout. Hopefully they will bloom some color before it frosts, which with my luck will be on September 2 before it gets Blazing Hot again until November 22.

Hope to take pix soon because the veggies are doing pretty well including the volunteer pumpkin plant that seeded itself right up against the side of the fence around the deck and is now doing its best to take over the entire deck area. It is awesome.  Altho a little disturbing.

Now, it is stinking 83 degrees in the house despite have the thermostat set at 76 so I am going to go sweat some more, shower, sweat and try to read more.

Right now? I”m reading Love Wins by Rob Bell and I’m also going to talk about that, I guess, for a minute since we are doing stream-of-consciousness blogging right now:

This book is awesome and if you haven’t read it, you should.

Oh, that’s all, I guess.

I’ve also been reading Erik Larson and he also writes really good reads.

Now I’m going to either

a) stop and go shower

or

b) stop this post and write another one about how awesome my newest addition is

Open Letter to the Idiot Who Almost Made Mrs Fussy Crankypants Smash Into Him Because He Doesn’t Know How To Drive in the Snow

Dear Idiot:

It came rapidly to Mrs Fussy Crankypants’ (aka, Grumpy Pregnant Woman) attention that you do not know how to drive in the snow.

Let’s have a little basic science lesson to ameliorate this situation, shall we?

“Snow” (that white stuff that falls from the sky; look around you, there’s a bit right now on the ground) is a kind of frozen water that falls onto the ground when it is very cold during the winter. This “snow” has a detrimental (“detrimental” means “bad”) effect on driving because it “interferes” (“interferes” means “messes with”) with “friction”.

“Friction” is a natural force that helps your car start, continue and stop.  So if “snow” “interferes” with “friction”, THAT means you can’t start, continue or stop as quickly (“quickly” means “fast”) as when it is not “snowy”.

So, when there is “snow” on the street, and you are trying to gun it across five lanes of traffic because you don’t want to wait and sit there spinning  your wheels in the “snow” while Mrs Fussy Crankypants (aka, Grumpy Pregnant Woman) heads straight toward and has to hit the brakes, that could cause an accident.

And, Mr. Idiot, Mrs Fussy Crankypants (aka, Grumpy Pregnant Woman) PROMISES that you do not want to make her hit you. You would EXTREMELY regret it. Mrs Fussy Crankypants has a whole TANKFUL of pent-up hormones that she does not get to vent nearly as often as she would like to via vast, long and inventive strings of invectives (that means, “bad words”) that she saves for emergency situations.

So, Mr. Idiot Who Doesn’t Know How To Drive in the Snow, the next time you are tempted to cut across five lanes of traffic because you are an idiot when it is snowy, please recall this little science lesson and be advised that you would do well to avoid at ALL COSTS forcing Grumpy Pregnant Women to broadside you.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Fussy Crankypants
aka, Grumpy Pregnant Woman

Ditch Digging FAIL

Last week after a torrential downpour, The Fussypants’ garage flooded.  The Fussies went out the next morning after the rain during the night to standing water.

Sigh.

So, no big deal. The Fussies can dig a ditch, line it with perforated PVC and run it out into the yard.  POIFECT. A cunning plan.  Manual labor? No problem. Mrs Fussy Crankypants is good at digging, if she does say so herself. The Fussies can save a lot of money and have the satisfaction of DYThemselves.

Note the straightness of the line. Note the cunning slope. Note the catchment at the end to allow the water to have someplace to go.

But, alas:

DITCH FAIL

with the same amount (or a little more) of water standing in there for the 3rd time in a week as Mrs Fussy types.

And probably again tomorrow.

The Fussy Crankypants contacted the sellers to find out how often this had happened to them. They said it happened ONE TIME in the 7 years they lived here.

It’s just the Fussy’s luck.

Fussy FAIL.

Cumulus

This evening I realized how long it’s been since I’ve looked at the sky, just looked and watched. I have had something closer to the ground to keep my eyes on for the past few years so I’ve missed seeing

the autumn clouds, grey and heavy, scudding over

the denuded trees

the seed fronds of autumnal grass

the TV aerial on the neighbor’s rooftop

the papery, rattling stalks of sunflower seedheads

scudding above

the birds, tiny and black, winging their way across the sky

fighting the winds that send the clouds

scudding

Why I hate the environment

When 2 degrees difference in temperature inside makes all the difference between peace and a Mommy Meltdown:

 

Air Conditioning, 1 : Mother Earth, 0

How DID they do it?

Temps in the low 90s and a heat index in the upper 90s today coupled with an intense irritation and/or sense of personal affront at high humidity levels are in an inverse ratio to Mrs Fussy Crankypants’s levels of sweetness, tolerance and general humankindness.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants knows she is a BIG WUSS when it comes to The Hot.  She can give birth to a baby without pain medication, she can walk across gravel in her bare feet, extreme levels of toddler clutter do not normally bother her yet heat and/or it’s evil twin humidity turn Mrs Fussy Crankypants into something that starts with a “b” and sounds like “itch”.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants often considers our Forebearers, those fearless folk who lived in such places as Texas, Nebraska, Texas, Louisiana and Texas all without air conditioning.  They did not worry or fret about pumping fiery hot air from their house into the atmosphere. They had no concerns about at what degree exactly they could set their thermostat and not feel TOO guilty about depleting the ozone while not walking around like a grumpy, sweating bear.  They were not slaves to seeking out climate-controlled environments when The Hot got hotter because they HAD no air conditioning, they had no climate control, they had no thermostats.

They had trees.  And also, maybe they had streams.  But they also had long skirts, corsets, ultra-conservative LDS-style underwear and Lord love you how in the world did they walk around not constantly completely soaked in sweat?  Perhaps, in fact, they did.

(p.s. they had no deodorant either. And no evening shower)

Above all, as Mrs Fussy Crankypants considers our Hardy Ancestors, and pays homage to their sheer grit and ability to endure tempertures that cause Mrs Fussy Crankypants to turn into a glistening wet limp noodle that hisses in irritability (and Mrs FC is pretty sure that that is an image you have never imagined before. You’re welcome), above all, she wonders how in the world they survived their long skirts, corsets, high collars, lack of air conditioning, no deodorant, piquant odors and, oh did we mention having to CAN all the veggies during August and also make the soap and cook over an open fire and/or wood stove, without this most quintessential and highly essential summer remedy to The Sweaty Hot:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs FC salutes all Those Who Came Before with an ice cold iced coffee.  You were better women than she.

 

 

 

 

Rain

Ohio rain

Oregon rain

Korea rain

splish splash  plash plop steady stream

Sweden rain

England rain

Thailand rain

chuckle tinkle swish flowing singing along the curbs or kerbs or  遏制

of all the rains around the world that i have heard

the sweetest of all are the ones we listen to together

at your window

on the bed

looking out at the glistening leaves on the abundance of maples

your sweet little curls ringing your head in the humidity of

Ohio rain

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