Rounding out the week

Baby Guy, chuffed that things are going so swimmingly around here

Thank you, all those who have commiserated with me on the loss of my bougie backlit mirror, my extra-large battered-looking round green metal clock, and most of all, my beloved Bodum milk frother.

One of the other things "they" say is, what a difference a day makes.

I think that's actually a song.

Anyway, the day after I posted my last post, I got to thinking. I thought, maybe there is something online about fixing a clock with the problem being experienced by mine.

I typed some relevant terms into the search line and almost immediately, the answer was provided.

It was in the form of a short video posted nine years ago by a lady named Pam Corwin, who assured all who may be watching that a clock problem like mine was easily fixed.

And it was. In fact, within less than five minutes of watching the video, I had fixed the clock.

First I took it down off the wall and carefully leaned it against the sofa. I removed the thing in the middle that held the hands on. 

Sure enough, just as Pam Corwin said, all I had to do was push the hour hand back down onto the post upon which the hands are mounted.

I put the minute hand back on, screwed the thing that holds them in place back on, and held my breath.

It worked. When TG got home, he put the clock back up on the wall for me.

Look at that! We exclaimed. A problem solved, without an extra one created!

But not so fast.

As in, the next morning (yesterday) I noticed that the clock had again stopped. At four-something in the morning.

Mamaw nooooo

I took it down from the wall again and repeated what I'd done the day before.

Then when I went to set it, I noticed -- again, as Pam Corwin cautioned -- that at one point the two hands scraped one another ever so slightly.

I carefully bent the minute hand out a tad bit and reset the clock using the wheel on the back provided for that purpose (because as Pam Corwin admonished, you should never change the time on such a clock by shoving the hands themselves around, and I had in fact been guilty of that).

And held my breath.

Now, more than twenty-four hours later, at this writing, my clock is still keeping accurate time.

And still sitting the floor, leaning against the sofa. I am contemplating changing the time to an hour earlier, just so that TG can put it in place and we won't have to take it back down a week from now, on fall-back day.

What say you to that? Isn't that special?

I'll tell you what else is special.

Last evening while I was preparing supper, TG went down to the mailbox and came back in with our mail.

He does that every day except Sunday. We are creatures of habit.

I noticed that there was a flat-ish medium-sized blue-and-white bubble mailer in the bundle.

The kind that comes from Amazon. Now, my TG is not prone to order anything from Amazon. That's my job.

Only, I had not ordered anything.

But he handed the package to me, and I saw that it was addressed to me.

The gift of friendship ... and frothed milk

I opened it. Guess what was inside? A Bodum milk frother.

Just like the one that our Stephanie gave me for Christmas several years ago, and on which I recently was obliged to perform last rites.

TG looked on without saying anything, and as he knew my frother had gone kaput, I realized that he thought I'd ordered a new one.

But: I didn't order this, I said.

He only lifted his eyebrows. I wasn't sure he believed me! I don't know why my credibility on such a matter would be in question!

So I repeated: I did not order this.

Okay, he said.

The kids and TG and I had been texting back and forth earlier in the day, when Andrew sent us the pictures of Baby Guy that you see in this post.

I picked up the thread. Which one of you birds sent me a new Bodum milk frother?

Andrew was the first to respond: Not it.

Audrey was next: Not I!

Erica: Not me either!

Stephanie: It wasn't me.

Brittany: It must have been a secret admirer!

So far so good

Audrey: Maybe it was Dad.

Andrew: Ordered it in your sleep.

Me: I did not, Andrew!

As surely as I knew it wasn't "Dad," I knew I had not ordered a milk frother in my sleep. Give me some credit for at least being awake when I spend money.

And then I was truly mystified.

I began a mental calculation of who, out of my not over-large but truly wonderful circle of dear friends and blogging buddies (or both), would be the most likely to do such a kind and generous thing.

A tick or two later, having intuited quickly with my steel trap of a mind who the guilty party must be, I issued an email to that rascal person.

Did you send me a Bodum milk frother from Amazon?????

Shortly thereafter, I received a reply in the affirmative. She admitted it!

A few minutes later I informed the kids via that same group text: It was Mari.

And I said to myself: Of course it was Mari. Not that any one of my other wonderful friends would not have done the very same thing, or something equally thoughtful.

But at such times, after weeding out family members, Mari tends to be the first one you think of.

Thanks again, my friend. I want to be more like you.

As I told Mari in a text this morning, after enjoying a delightful cup of coffee with heaps of frothy cream, I never knew how worn-out my old Bodum milk frother was until I used the new one.

It was time.

Baby Elliot registered his concern over current events

So the clock is ticking and the milk is frothing. If the odds are in our favor, maybe we'll get that replacement bougie backlit mirror on the wall tomorrow.

I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, have a lovely and peaceful -- and, I hope, relaxing -- autumn weekend.

Maybe even with a pleasant surprise or two.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday

Got your six

If you've got the time, I've got the timeless clock

They say that what goes around, comes around.

And that even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Whoever they are, they sure are full of clichés.

At any rate, many round things in my house seem to be breaking at the same -- or around the same -- time.

The first to go was actually a clock.

To be specific, my extra-large battered-looking round green metal clock that hangs over the fireplace hearth.

It runs on a single AA battery that will keep it ticking for several months.

But inevitably, enough time will pass that I'll look up to reference said oversized timepiece and notice that something is off.

So it was around a month ago. My clock had stopped and while I may be able to take it down and replace the battery all by me onesie, no way can I put it back up without assistance.

Cherica were over one night and I asked TG and Chad to take the clock off the wall. I trotted to the kitchen to get a AA battery.

The men complied and in no time, the clock was back on the wall and I set it to the correct time. 

Except, later, we noticed that while the minute hand was diligently working its way around the dial, the hour hand hung limply at the six.

I did a cursory inspection and found that the hour hand had somehow become disengaged from whatever gear controls it, and was attached to nothing that would enable it to make the trip around the clock's face once every twelve hours.

Since we have no idea what to do or how to fix it, our extra-large battered-looking round green metal clock now claims, whenever you consult its face, that the time of day is six something.

Which begs the question: Can this clock still be right twice a day? I have near about worn me pirate brain out trying to come up with the answer.

Would the real frother please come froth

I mean, I get it if the clock is STOPPED. Like, at six minutes after six, in the A.M. or the P.M. The correct time will roll around twice a day. Faithfully.

But what are the chances that, with only one of the hands moving, the correct time will ever correspond with the time registered on the clock, at any given moment? Even once? Surely not twice? Per day, I mean?

Your thoughts are welcome.

Oh and not for nothing but this was the second round clock to suffer a profound (but in this case, not permanent) disability during this calendar year.

The other is a much smaller wall-mounted timepiece (Have you noticed that I have a thing for circles, and circular things? No? Well I do.) that hangs in the kitchen, not far from the door leading out to the garage.

It came from Dollar General and thus was cheap but it was so attractive that I had to have it.

Only, last summer, TG -- while working on the aforementioned door leading out to the garage -- stumbled and, since he is so tall (six foot four), bumped the clock with his shoulder and knocked it to the floor.

I rushed to pick up my clock and noticed that the plastic rim was cracked, but not so as you would necessarily notice unless you already knew the crack was there.

Which no one is going to do because they won't know. I mean, you know now but if you were to come over, I would dazzle you with charm (and food) so that you'd forget all about looking for that crack in the clock.

And since the clock was still merrily ticking and keeping accurate time after I tenderly retrieved it from the hard floor, I carefully hung it back up on the wall.

And politely suggested to my beloved that he get a grip and take it easy on my stuff.

Whereupon he continued with the door project until its completion and as I recall, made no response to my timely recommendation.

Ah. Some things never change but love makes the world go 'round. So we're good.

That's it for the round clocks. Circling back, next to go was my round mirror.

Now, we have three baths and each has a round mirror on the wall. The half bath has a round mirror that's twenty-four inches in diameter and edged in black rubber.

This mirror was so bougie ... until it broke

The guest bath has a round mirror on the wall that is forty-eight inches in diameter. It's a whopper. Also framed in black.

And last spring, when we remodeled our master bath, I chose yet another round mirror -- thirty-six inches in diameter, and frameless, but with a special feature.

It's backlit.

This mirror is positively enchanting. In fact I was so taken with it, I'm not sure I would have cared what it cost, but in truth the price was reasonable for such a gorgeous thing.

Except, after the mirror had been on the wall and functioning as intended for less than six months, one day it simply did not work.

As in, when I touched the indicators at the bottom of the mirror to activate either the LED light or the defogger, or both, nothing happened.

And this was just from one day to the next. The classic now you see it, now you don't.

Ugh. I was so upset.

The maddening part was that the two circular indicators at the bottom of the round mirror were themselves still illuminated. But pressing them produced no result.

Since the mirror was hardwired by the installer, we got the bright idea to turn off the electricity to that room, effectively killing power to the mirror. We waited about a minute, then restored the power.

Then the indicators were no longer illuminated, but a creepy vague noncommittal glow now emanates from the back of the mirror. All the time. You can only see it in the dark.

I had bought the mirror on Amazon and it was long past the time when one could return it -- which I didn't want to do anyway, since the packaging was no doubt in a landfill and how does one wrap up and return such an unwieldy thing?

So I did all I could do, which was write a one-star review.

I said, the mirror is beautiful. All I hoped for and then some. But after less than six months of working, suddenly and with no warning, it no longer works.

After a few days, my review was published.

This one took the proverbial licking and ... you know the rest

And do you know what happened? The seller reached out to me via email to ask whether I wanted a refund, or a replacement.

I processed my amazement and answered forthwith that what I wanted was a replacement, since I was still thoroughly enamored with the mirror.

To be honest, I'm not sure I believed that they would send me a replacement mirror, just like that.

But they got around to it right away and a week later, a new mirror had been delivered to my door.

I amended my review to five stars simply on the strength of the seller's response to my one-star review.

And now it only remains for TG to install the replacement mirror, and we will be back in business.

Let us keep our collective fingers crossed that this mirror functions as intended for a good long time.

Especially since we can't say as much about my favorite milk frother.

It's a Bodum and even though it cost only ten dollars, it was a gift to me from our Stephanie many Christmases ago.

And it takes two AA batteries, and works beautifully to do its intended job, and has done so for all the time I've had it.

(I pour the heavy cream into my cup, heat it in the microwave, froth the warmed cream, then make or pour my hot coffee right over the top of that.)

But a few weeks ago, after I had fed the Bodum frother with two brand-new AA batteries because its vigor seemed to be flagging, it simply refused to work.

At all.

As in, I knew I had put the batteries in correctly because they go in the same way every time, and it's not like it's a difficult concept to begin with; you pop the old batteries out, pop the new ones in, replace the cap on the end, and froth away.

But not this time. No matter what I do or say, my Bodum frother is dead in the water.

No little circular wire frothering thing is going to go around and around any more, frothing anything.

Never underestimate the power of a backup frother

The pirate did, not, however, despair. 

That's because a few years ago, Andrew and Brittany gave me a gift of something I'd wanted for a long time: A stick immersion blender.

(I had never had one! I told you, I am usually the last woman in the Western Hemisphere to jump on the bandwagon of a trend. I didn't have a microwave oven until the late nineties.)

But oh how I loved that stick blender! It was so handy when I made my homemade French-style tomato soup:

In a medium-size heavy saucepan, to one large can of San Marzano whole peeled tomatoes add one-half of a stick of butter, one medium yellow onion cut into chunks, and two cups or so of chicken broth. Bring to a boil, then simmer with the lid on for forty-five minutes. Blend (either in a blender, or with a stick immersion blender) until smooth, and serve.

But one day about six months ago or so, I noticed that my stick immersion blender was no longer blending. As in, you'd immerse it in whatever you wanted to blend, and press the button, and there was sound but no action.

Turned out, there was a tiny plastic piece that had broken, and said piece fit somehow at the base of the blender's blades, and without it, the blades would not turn.

Ever again. As there was no way to repair the plastic piece, I threw it away but kept the stick blender because it came with clever attachments.

And one of those is a milk frother.

So, recent narrowly-averted disasters notwithstanding, we are once more in business when it comes to frothing milk for the morning coffee.

It's a minor annoyance that I have to haul the large stick blender out of the cabinet and plug it in -- as opposed to reaching for the small, lightweight Bodum frother -- but the good news is, it works.

Works exactly like the Bodum frother did, as a matter of fact. Six of one, half dozen of the other, type thing.

Let's unbox this bad boy and get it up on the wall

In a roundabout way, all really is well that ends well.

Except in the case of my extra-large battered-looking round green metal clock, which is still claiming that it's six-something at basically all times of every day.

Is there anyone around who's got my six on this thing?

If so, speak truth to power and help a pirate out of a jam. Not to mention a sinister time warp.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Monday Mirth :: failures

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Happy Monday

Monday Mirth

I cadged this idea from another blog.

I pilfered the meme too.

We'll do it every week.

Pirate!

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Happy Monday

Changing with the times

Baby Elliot has settled easily into home and hearts ... and his mother's arms

A thousand pirate apols in advance.

I realize that you lot are not even remotely obsessed with my new grandsons or with my seasonal decor.

But as bloggers we do enjoy the odd family-home-hearth slide show; do we not?

So let's get started.

This is a mulled cider candle

Yesterday I went to Erica's house and sat holding Baby Elliot for an hour or so. 

He was mostly asleep but when I first started holding him, and again towards the end when he woke up and was hungry, he was alert and looking all around.

Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore."

For an eleven- (now twelve) day-old, it was extraordinary. By my reckoning, he was acting like at least a two-week-old. Which he will in fact be, come Thursday.

As for Baby Guy in Tennessee, he recently got almost two weeks older (he will be seven weeks old on Thursday) while his dad, our Andrew, was serving his country by refueling fighter planes over the Pacific Ocean nonstop for eleven days.

Oh hi ... that you, Dad? Photo courtesy Brittany Weber

From Hawaii to Japan and back. Rinse and repeat. He touched down in East Tennessee early in the morning a few days ago, and rushed home to see his wife and children. Baby Guy was probably wondering who the grinning mustachioed pilot was, but I'm sure that pretty soon he figured it out.

This wreath will greet you if you're invited in through the garage

Dear old Dad! Welcome home.

Meanwhile, fall (If you mentally corrected the lower-case "f" ... don't. Contrary to popular belief, it's not supposed to be capitalized except at the beginning of a sentence, or when used metaphorically.) is progressing as it usually does in South Carolina: warm -- some might say unseasonably so, but not for us -- during the day, pleasantly chilly at night and in the early mornings.

A little graveyard humor for your October enjoyment

We haven't had a whole lot of rain lately and I get the feeling that I say this every year, but the drier the weather is during this crucial time, the less likely that we will have "real nice" fall color when it finally does develop, which is usually in November.

But we shall see.

Dagny found the vampire gnome at Dollar Tree ... note his red-lined cape

Despite the warmer climes (albeit with pleasantly low humidity), we as a family had our first chili supper last Friday. At our house.

I've shared this before, and I have also eaten better chili than mine, but for EZPZ you cannot beat my recipe:

It's a fool-proof recipe. No fooling.

Brown three pounds of extra-lean ground chuck or sirloin. To that add three cans each of chili hot beans and chili ready tomatoes, plus one packet of chili seasoning. Stir it up.

There you have it. Allow the flavors several hours to "marry," serve it piping hot, and I promise, your large crowd of chili-eaters will not be disappointed.

This wreath adorns the door in the TV room which leads to the master bedroom

Of course you can amend this recipe to make smaller (or larger) batches. One pound of meat to one can each of the beans and tomatoes, for example. Adjust the seasoning to your taste. 

But the smart money is on making my three-three-three-one recipe and freezing what you don't need, for the next time you feel led (not lead) to serve chili. Work smarter, not harder.

I like lots of twinkling lights on my table

Anyway.

The chili -- which I made this time, to my exacting can-and-packet-opening standards, in my Lodge Dutch Oven instead of in the Crock Pot -- was delicious and of course I served it with the usual accouterments: Fritos (no apostrophe between the "o" and the "s") Scoops, hand-shredded extra sharp cheddar, sour cream, and mild banana pepper rings.

I give you Cassius Crow

For dessert I baked a Marie Callender's Cherry Crunch pie.

The reason for the party was that I wanted Baby Elliot to come to Mamaw's house for the first time since the last time he was here, at which time he had not been born yet.

This little fella sits on the hearth in the TV room

I also was keen to show off my October decorating.

After easing into late summer with a sunflower theme towards the end of August, it is my habit to transition during September to more sunflowers, plus the first wave of orange-and-brown autumnal decor.

This is the second year for the black cat gnome

As in, I break out some of my fall stuff but not all of it at once.

That's because in between September and November comes October, and although I do not "do" Halloween in any true sense of that word, I admit to a fondness for the funny, campy decorations for October.

The glass skull glows eerily with the help of a tea candle

And I have a real affinity for skeletons and skulls (year round, actually), which I find humorous. The skulls and skeletons, that is; not my affinity for them.

You know I'm a card-carrying, rank-and-file, dyed-in-the-wool taphophile, so I'm into cemeteries twelve months out of the year too, but in October I let that child out to play, as it were.

I've got owl S&P shakers, and also sugar skulls

In fact, on Temu I recently found (and duly purchased) two new tees: one with sleeves and one without, but both in black and both with skeletons.

I got this one (I'm wearing it as we speak) and this one.

Skelly in the house ... when October goes

I mean who could decide between those two? Not the pirate.

I've already got (have had for years) not one but two versions of the classic I've Got Your Back skeletons, with one brandishing the other's vertebral column.

I showed you my new front-door wreath before, but here's a close-up

That's a classic.

At any rate, for the nonce I have put away much of the overt orangey autumnal stuff and brought out my black table runner with silver studs in a spider web pattern.

Do ye? Well do ye? Aaarrrgh! I do!

At one end of that I put my hearse and my pirate bride and groom.

Out came my graveyard-themed salt-and-pepper shakers from Cracker Barrel, and my heavy solid glass skull tea light holder. I added my cream-colored ceramic pail with a repeating pattern of skulls in black.

I've had these fall-leaf-shaped tea light holders for years

From the front room where he stays the rest of the time, I brought out Cassius Crow in his cage. There is also my raven.

Dagny found me the vampire gnome at the Dollar Tree for a dollar and a quarter, about a month ago.

The old-timey hearse is rich in detail

I already had the black cat gnome from last year.

Then there is the usual lineup of pumpkins and owls and various and sundry other homey decorations that work for both October and November.

The sugar skull S&P shakers were a gift from my friend Andrea

On November first we will switch out the October layabouts for the all-out autumn ones, adding turkeys and like such as, for the Thanksgiving holiday.

What a foofaraw! You may be saying.

I've had this scary-funny decoration for many years

If you're confused, don't worry. The pirate will take care of everything. And there will be pictures. You'll get to where you know my decorations so well, you'll think they're yours.

You may have noticed from my last post that I did buy a full-sized skeleton (it's plastic) this year, and poised him on the apple-green bench beneath the white oak just a few feet from our front steps.

This pail will hold something or other before it's all over

Name of Skelly. He wears a pirate hat.

I plan to bring him inside after October, and put him on the bench in the sun room, and dress him for the seasons.

This wooden leaf was a gift from my friend Marsha

Or something along those lines. We'll play that one by ear.

Speaking of ear, you should hear the sound when an acorn pops off the aforementioned white oak which towers over our house, and strikes the metal roof of the sun room, where I am usually sitting.

I gave this leaf-and-bird dish to my mom many years ago

It sounds like someone has lobbed a boulder at us from ten stories up. Sweetness does not flinch but Rizzo nearly jumps out of his skin.

When it happens I feel like quoting Rhett Butler in the library when Scarlett, in a fit of pique because her romantic overtures to Ashley were not repaid in kind, throws a priceless decoration across the room, which objet d'art shatters on the fireplace mantel.

I bought this jack o' lantern at Walgreens for $3 at least 25 years ago

Has the war started? the urbane Rhett inquires sarcastically as he makes his presence known. It's one of the greater cinematic moments.

Be that as it may, I am convinced that it's not too early to declare a mast, or boom, year for the acorns. We're getting a bumper crop, as it were.

This glass pumpkin holds treats for those who need such things

On Sunday I sat on the front porch for a while and watched a squirrel poised at the base of the white oak, munching acorns as fast as his little jaws would allow.

I'd do that with the candy I put in that pumpkin jar, but neither my waistline nor my dentist would appreciate that. So for the most part, I'll stay out of it.

It's for the kids anyway.

And we're having another party this coming Friday for those same kids, so I'll tell you all about that next week, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Belay that

Baby Elliot ... going on five days old

Urgent.

A retraction has been issued.

Allow me to elaborate.

First, the back story:

In the weeks leading up to Erica's due date, she and Chad were having trouble choosing the name.

I would say that perhaps half a dozen names were considered as strong contenders.

But as time went on, two names (first and middle) emerged as the finalists: Jack, and Elliot.

Erica was team Elliot. Chad was team Jack.

While Chad was not at all averse to one of the child's names being Elliot, he wanted his son to be known as and referred to as Jack.

While Erica was not averse to one of the child's names being Jack, she had zero interest in calling him Jack and could not agree to that.

So if it ended up being Jack Elliot, the understanding would be that he would go by a double name.

No Jack without Elliot.

But then, maybe ten days out, Cherica reached a different consensus. Jack was removed from the mix. They would name their boy Elliot Stanley.

(Stanley was TG's father's name. Erica, more than any other of my late in-laws' grandchildren, resembles her paternal grandfather.)

Erica was thrilled.

While Chad was obliged to give up the name Jack, he agreed to it and seemed all right with it and, for a few days at least, the matter seemed settled.

Here's your sign

But a few days after that, he changed his mind. He wanted the baby named Jack Elliot and consulted with Erica about the likelihood of that happening.

She semi-reluctantly agreed, but on a provisional basis. As in, the only way she would agree to name the child Jack Elliot is if he were known by and called the double name: Jack Elliot.

Not Jack, by itself. She would not agree to that.

So it was that just before six o'clock in the morning last Thursday, the baby was born. I was present and, moments after the birth, wanting to send pictures of the baby to family members, I checked with Cherica one last time.

Is his name Jack Elliot? I asked.

Erica looked up at Chad, who looked down at her. She nodded and he nodded. 

Later that day, in the afternoon during a quiet moment when it was only she and I in her hospital room, Erica told me that she was having misgivings about the baby's name.

Specifically, she regretted agreeing to name him Jack Elliot since it would mean always calling him that and having to gently correct anyone who called him merely "Jack" without bothering to add the Elliot.

Which we all know would have happened, and it would not have been anyone's fault. It's just the way these things tend to go.

I told her she needed to talk to her husband and tell him how she felt.

She didn't have a real chance to do that until a day or so later, when they were at home. There was a discussion but no immediate resolution.

Erica was miserable. Chad did not realize that she was miserable, but as it turned out, neither of them were enjoying calling their baby Jack Elliot.

Yesterday afternoon, they had another private conversation.

They acknowledged the dilemma, weighed their options, and came to a decision: they would change their son's name to Elliot Jack.

And call him Elliot.

Final answer.

The subject of the naming controversy slept through most of it

Right away, they were both visibly happier. Erica suggested that Chad use the name Jack as an endearment, or private nickname, for Elliot.

Chad agreed that that would be acceptable.

The takeaway: Decide a new baby's name before it's born.

If you can.

So there you have it.

Welcome to the world, Baby Elliot. As your loving family, we may find ourselves sojourning in a state of confusion from time to time, but we will make every attempt not to take up permanent residence there.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

The boy baby parade

Rhett posed by the hospital fountains on the day his little brother was born

He's here.

I refer to our latest addition to the grandkid lineup.

Introducing Jack Elliot Porter, born a few minutes before six o'clock on the morning of Thursday, September 28, 2023.

He weighed seven pounds, one ounce, and was a touch over nineteen inches long.

Jack Elliot Porter

He will go by Jack Elliot. Double name. Call him merely "Jack" and risk incurring the pirate's wrath. Not to mention, don't let his mother hear you. If you're short on time, in commenting or texting you have my permission to type JE. 

Long story. For another day.

Now TG and I have eight grandchildren: four girls and four boys.

Oh so you like statistics? Here you go:

In the last six months, my sister Kay and I have greeted four new grandsons.

Hers: Andrew Sebastian, born on March thirty-first in Cleveland, Ohio, son of my niece Joanna and her husband Jacob; and Leland Cameron, born on September twenty-second in High Level, Alberta, Canada, son of my nephew Marc and his wife Whitney.

Erica is grateful, relieved, and flourishing

Mine: Guy Preston, born on August twenty-fourth, son of our Andrew and his wife Brittany; and Jack Elliot, (A/K/A new kid on the block), born five weeks to the day later, second son of our Erica and her husband Chad (Cherica).

(Both Leland and Jack Elliot were due on October second but couldn't wait that long.)

It's what they call an embarrassment of riches.

But no one is complaining.

Erica and Jack Elliot are doing spectacularly well. They are at home. Chad and Rhett are faring splendidly too.

Dagny Clare is beside herself with joy at her new cousin's birth

And as soon as I hit publish, I'm going over there to hold Jack Elliot, who no doubt is wondering where I am.

It's a good thing that I know where I am. I met Cherica at the hospital at midnight Wednesday night and Jack Elliot arrived six hours later. 

Three hours after that, I went home to freshen up and feed my pets, then went back to the hospital.

(Someday I will tell Jack Elliot that he was born on the first truly cool morning of a shining new autumn -- overcast and breezy early, partly cloudy, mild and continued breezy as the day waned.)

I went to bed at eight thirty that night, having been up for more than thirty-six hours.

And I hope you saw that because I will not be doing it again.

Such a wee lad to have caused such a kerfuffle

Mercy. Sleep deprivation: what a concept. The struggle is real.

So it's a good thing these beautiful mamas have the bairns while they are young and can handle such things.

Thank you for your prayers and well-wishes -- both the ones we have already received, and the ones that are sure to follow.

And that is all for now except to say, goodbye lovely eventful Sepbember, hello beautiful and long-awaited October.

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Happy Saturday

Falling

The children frolicked in the gorgeous weather

OK so here's how it went down.

Last Wednesday, our Andrew was all set to go to Alaska for eleven days with a flight crew from his unit.

Andrew is a KC-135 Stratotanker pilot attached to the 134th Air Refueling Wing of the Tennessee Air National Guard.

He and his buddies travel the globe to refuel military planes while in flight.

I got out my dollar-store clear glass plates and five-dollar goblets

And so it was that he packed up and left Brittany with both children on her own for the first time, Baby Guy one day shy of four weeks old, and reported to the base.

Only to be told that the trip to Alaska had been canceled and he would instead be going to California this week. He's there now.

Imagine Brittany's surprise when Andrew showed back up at home, his country not having required him to fly to Alaska that day after all.

We're dreaming of a new baby ... Cherica with Baby Guy

They got to talking and decided that it would be a lovely weekend to come to Columbia and show the baby off to two of Andrew's three sisters. The two who live here.

Our Stephanie and her family still have not seen Baby Guy in person.

Andrew contacted me to make sure that it would be all right for them to come and I said of course it would, and we decided to try and make it a surprise for Cherica and Rhett as well as for Audrey and Dagny.

Hey Punkin' ... you know me and my Cracker Barrel salt-and-pepper shakers

I quickly planned a spaghetti supper for Thursday evening and invited the two local families, not telling them of the special surprise guests of honor.

Then I got busy making the house ready and doing all the things, to include planning menus for the weekend, and shopping for the groceries.

The girls readily agreed to have supper with us on Thursday night and did not question the unexpected nature of the summons.

L to R ... Rhett, Skelly, Dagny, Ember

On Thursday at about five thirty, Andrew and Brittany arrived with Ember and Baby Guy. Andrew parked his truck down the street so that the girls wouldn't see it.

Erica was the first to arrive and she was all, like, whhaaaaat? when she saw Brittany standing in the kitchen, holding Baby Guy.

Audrey and Dagny came along about twenty minutes later and Dagny's jaw practically hit the floor when she saw her baby cousin for the first time.

I got these little darlings last fall

We had a splendid dinner of homemade spaghetti with meat sauce, salad, and spicy toast.

For dessert, I had bought a Marie Callender's Lattice Apple Pie -- which I baked that afternoon while making the spaghetti sauce -- and also an Edwards Cookies and Créme Pie.

What with the new Keurig and plenty of K-cups, it was EZPZ for everyone to make their own coffee.

We'll always have candlelight

It all went off without a hitch. After the festivities, Ember went home to spend the night with Audrey and Dagny while everyone else toddled off to bed here at the house.

The next day we got organized and went to CostLess Outlet Store and then hit the Costco. Two exciting destinations. Do you have a CostLess? I think it's only local here but I'm not sure.

At any rate it's a place where you can find great deals. TG found two pairs of tennis shoes -- one Puma and one Skechers -- for well under thirty dollars a pair. In his size of 13, which is not as easy as you'd think.

Baby Guy will be five weeks old tomorrow

I got a luscious fall wreath for my front door.

Later, at Costco, we enjoyed sample bites and picked up some essentials.

That night we enjoyed our standard cookout with hamburgers, chicken, and corn on the cob done by TG on the grill, together with baked macaroni and cheese and an assortment of chips and lots of varieties of soft drinks.

For dessert, Erica had brought a Costco pumpkin pie (those are excellent, IYKYK) and there was leftover apple and cookies and cream pie from the night before.

It seems I can't get enough of ceramic pumpkins

Ember went home with Audrey and Dagny again.

The next morning we hung out and drank coffee, and eventually everyone gathered to spend last moments with Andrew and Brittany and Ember and Guy, and to say goodbye for the nonce.

The weather was perfect. Gentle sunshine, low humidity, a breeze. The first day of fall.

Give Aunt Audrey a kiss ... Ember was unwilling to be captured

Dagny, Ember, and Rhett found broken tree boughs and ran all over the yard hoisting them aloft, as though they were flying kites.

Eventually it was time for leavetakings, and as you know those are always difficult moments.

As you have no doubt begun to do, we are looking forward to the holidays when we are all together again.

Here's that new door wreath I was telling you about

Our number will have swelled to seventeen by that time, when all are present and accounted for. Two of that number will be tiny infants.

We'll be creative in how we deal with the accommodations and all the rest.

But first, today and for the coming days we are on baby watch, with Erica due for her second son on October second.

Ember was already unhappy to see the party come to an end

No plans have been made to force the issue. As of now, nature will be allowed to take its course.

However, at her appointment this Friday Erica plans to ask the doctor whether she can be admitted and induced on the baby's due date of next Monday, provided he has not yet been born.

No one knows how it will go. And that is part of the thrill of anticipation.

It's a waiting game

One thing is for sure: I will give a comprehensive report when there is something to tell.

With pictures and all appropriate commentary.

You know full well that the pirate is as good as her word.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday