A Itchy, Scratchy Check-Your-Ankles-For-Bites Flea Tale

For somebody who doesn't seem too interested in what I do, that girl of mine sure keeps up-to-date on my blog posts:

Haven't posted anything in a while, huh, Mom?
I did just the other day, Daughter.
Humph. Guess I missed that one.

I think she secretly admires her mother.

We have been engaged in the Battle of the Fleas at our house. It doesn't happen very often around here, but when it does... whew! Those little pests are hard to kick. I spent my morning yesterday washing and vacuuming and spraying everything in sight while the cats were banished to the screened-in porch. When the kids got home from school, I paid two of them twenty bucks each (payday!) to wash and soak the cats in a Dawn dish soap bubble bath and remove and wash all the furniture on the back porch where they had been hanging out all day. They were glad to do it. I was glad to pay it. I call that a win-win situation.

The flea status as of this morning looks favorable. One cat looks entirely flea-free while the other one (all black) is a little harder to tell. I think I am gonna let 'em back inside to at least part of the house (no bedroom access included). I've got a couple of flea bombs lined up for later this week and I'm keeping that flea killer spray as handy as a six-shooter pistol in a hip holster. I'm wishing I had a walnut tree nearby. When we lived back in the Midwest, my grandma swore by keeping walnut branches (with the leaves) stashed under the furniture to ensure a flea-free home. I don't where she got that idea- maybe my grandpa? -but we lived in the country with a dog and multiple outdoor cats and never really had a problem with fleas.

Sheesh. I can hear the pitiful meowing coming from just outside the backdoor.
Even I can't take that kind of pressure. Release the hounds felines!

I've got my sharp-shooter ready.

And The Low-Balance Alert Says...

$17.20 in our checking account.

Chuckle, chuckle. Cry, cry.

Meanwhile, the NFL refs got what they wanted and we still can't afford tickets to see our favorite team. Same goes for George Strait. He announced his final tour and the girl and I talked about trying to see him next year. I checked out ticket prices for a venue near us... yeah, that's not going to happen either.

On the plus side, I have managed to make a $56.00 grocery trip made at the beginning of the week carry this family of five through the end of the week. Thank God for potatoes. From side dishes to soup to just a plain old baked potato to go along with chili, they can stretch out any budget.

Of course, I may want to leave potatoes out of next week's meal planning.

Even I could use a break.

For My Family. You Are Loved.

This picture isn't the best in the world. In fact, it's pretty sorry. But, if you could've seen it from my point of view- and heard the sounds that went with it... well, you would understand why I grabbed my camera and tried my best to peer out a cracked screen door while keeping the cats from bolting so I could try to capture the moment.

If you could see it clearly, you would see a girl sitting in an adirondack chair (the Lowes plastic version) embroidering a quilt block. She's in a flannel, plaid shirt with her hair pulled back in a curly ponytail. That's her oldest brother to the right. He's still in his work clothes and tinkering around on a motorcycle he recently bought. The brown and tan truck is his pride and joy and a gift from his grandpa. Their voices drift up this way (toward the house), although I can't make out a thing they are saying.

To the right of the oldest is a shed you can't see. Inside, the middle is faithfully going through his fitness regimen in which he writes down his goals on a dry erase board I bought him. Every now and then I can hear the clinking and clanking of his weights as they go up and down. The tail end of the blue truck that you see is most likely where the husband is working this evening. The fall air is beautiful, the insect repellent is at hand, and they all seem content in their world.

I was cleaning up the kitchen and thinking about Mary Todd Lincoln when I looked out the window. Odd twist there, I know, but lately I have been somewhat obsessed with the former first lady. Was she insane or was she merely a victim of the time period in which she lived? I am in the midst of one book about her now and have two more waiting in the wings, all from different perspectives. So, I was thinking of her grief regarding the death of yet another one of her children when I wiped my hands on a towel and turned off the kitchen light.

And caught a glimpse of my family,
Which produced this blurry image,
That prompted a time of gratitude.

Hope you don't mind.

Dodge Caravan Meltdown

At the request of the husband, I am posting these pics online for all the world to see. We have a 2003 Dodge Grand Caravan 3.8L Sport (?) that we bought back in 2008 with around 48,000 miles. The odometer currently reads around 108,000 thoroughly-enjoyed miles. With this vehicle, we have something of a love-hate relationship.

We love it because it's paid for and has been for some time.
We hate it because there is forever something going wrong.

Transmission.
Transmission again.

Fuel pump. Front struts. Rear shocks.

There are times when we'd like to throw in the towel and send the blasted thing into some dark, dank, caravan ravine; but for the most part, the husband does all the work himself and all we are out is the cost of parts and a steady supply of pain relievers. Besides, when all things are at the top of their game, the van runs great.

A month ago, though, that ugly gremlin that lives under the hood began to rear its head once more. A constant vibration with no obvious cause and little incentive to pull a hill at 35 mph. It has since sat useless in our driveway except for the daring run the husband made to Auto Zone one night to have it hooked up to a diagnostic computer. No real surprise there... the diagnosis revealed that there was indeed something wrong, but listed a rap sheet of possible causes.

So the man has replaced the plenum (intake, I think) gaskets, valve cover gaskets, mass air flow sensor,  oxygen sensor, throttle positioning sensor, spark plugs, spark plug wires, and the fuel injectors. Nothing changed. Tonight he came in tired and frustrated and silently ate the potato soup and grilled cheese I set before him. He walked back out after doing some reading online and five minutes later summoned me and my camera.

This is the fuel injection wiring harness. What's left of it anyway. Even a non-mechanic, non-electrical girl such as myself can guess that I shouldn't be seeing exposed wires.

He was dumbfounded and a little shocked that we hadn't experience any fire problems and kept repeating the same phrase, "I have never seen this before." I was still stuck on the word fire.

Fire?

I am so buying a Mustang once I get a job. =)

Priorities (Take Two)

In thinking about my plan for the day earlier this morning, a few tweaks were made along the way. For instance, I did have that muffin and coffee and experienced an awesome church service that made me cry for at least half of the service. (My, oh my, does the Lord know me!) We did have lunch and visited our southern grandma- which turned into a much longer visit than we had planned. Therefore, I've not done a stitch of laundry, fall stuff will have to wait till next weekend, and it's too warm to sit outside on the swing right now. I decided I would rather have a coffee than grill out that chicken, the vacuuming probably won't happen today, and the kitchen will most likely get a hit-and-miss job later. The cleaning of the bedroom might stand a chance and the reading is a definite no-brainer.

All that to say I really didn't accomplish very much.

But I was blessed this morning by the book of Job. My afternoon coffee was free. And I learned things about my southern grandma that I never knew. In fact, she may become my next favorite grandma to write about.

It's all about priorities.

Priorities

This is the day the Lord hath made, and the day that I have successfully pushed everything I wanted to do yesterday. Such a procrastinator, I am. In the next twelve hours, I am hoping to cram in quite a few things:

A muffin and coffee. Church. A visit to our southern grandma. Lunch. Laundry. Pull fall stuff from the attic. Place fall stuff around the house. Another cup of coffee. Sit on the swing. Read. Clean my bedroom. Vacuum. Grill out chicken. Clean the kitchen. Sit on the couch.

In the midst of all that, I have to mentally prepare myself for another week of substitute teaching in a somewhat challenging class, throw some bills in a hat and see who gets paid this week, and try to be a pleasant person to be around.

This is why I go to church when I could stay home and get started early.

I need all the help I can get.

Stark Reminders

A repeat of last year,
but nothing more to add.

Our country, and we as citizens, remember...

Click this link for a post from last year regarding Memories Of That Day.