Well, it’s hot here. Too hot. But not near as hot as it will be.

Tuesday was a good day, overall. Big Sister maintained a great attitude and helpful spirit the entire day, and we all enjoyed working together and were blessed. Yesterday Little Monkey made up for it by getting into the (expensive) arrowroot powder and putting it on the kitchen floor, family room floor, treadmill belt, and all over herself. Her gray patterned dress was white. It was partly my fault; I was tired and worn out and didn’t find something constructive for her to do (and she always chooses something destructive when it’s up to her) and she had some ‘free time.’ This morning she climbed the cupboards and found the sundrops (organic, expensive M&Ms) which we save for when she has a dry pullup or diaper in the morning. She didn’t wait for Mama to check the pullup and distribute the sundrops – in fact, she didn’t even wait for Mama to wake up! She was sitting quietly at her place at the table eating sundrops from the bottom of a small gravy pitcher.

The garden is a two-steps-forward,-one-step-back proposition it seems. Possibly the other way around. My windproof cabbages and broccoli are succumbing to some sort of nasty critter that likes to eat them. I don’t think it’s cabbage caterpillars, unless they’re very tiny… whatever it is leaves the veins of the leaf like a skeleton. I went to a greenhouse the other day and bought some beefsteak-style tomato plants; I have 2 in the ground, and the rest might’ve had heat stroke today while I was gone. I also got thyme, a nice bushy oregano (if the heat stroke didn’t kill it too), some cukes (mine died), some yellow crookneck squash (my seeds haven’t made it into the ground yet), a “sweet chocolate” pepper plant, and some flowers for the girls. The baby boo, watermelon, and zucchini seeds haven’t sprouted yet, and I’m starting to worry.

We butchered 11 dumb chickens last Saturday. Like any wimpy prisoner-of-war, one committed suicide that very morning. I guess it wanted it on it’s own terms. I had asked Wonderful Husband to set things up and ready everything to get going early in the morning. My idea of such things and his are far different, apparently. He set things up right in the kids play area! Right by the trampoline, no less! He didn’t bother to pull the galvanized tub from the jungle of weeds (where it was tossed after serving the last of last year’s turkeys), so didn’t realize it had been dented and had sprung a leak. Thankfully he used his amazing talents at metalwork and soldered the hole mostly shut. That was after he decided he needed to fix the hole in the hose (that the duck enjoys far too much and thus wrecks the lawn). Of course, the coupler I had bought for the hose was NOT the right size, and he had to make a run to the place we always run to for such things. So my ‘early morning’ plan didn’t exactly work out. I didn’t want to risk my fancy (ok, limited amount of) maternity clothing to the viscera of the day, so I found an old pair of jeans. I don’t know why I keep this stuff. But I’m glad I do. They’re from about 10 years ago; Hubby’s cousin (a big guy) gave them to me because he didn’t want them and I loved them. Each leg could probably fit a non-pregnant me. The 38 waist fit around my middle ok, but the black color was terrible in the sun! Amazingly though, I had an epiphany, or something of that nature. Last year with the turkeys, I could pluck them, but I really couldn’t take any part of the killing or butchering. This time I came to the realization that I have not bought chicken in a year or more, and can’t bring myself to do so, so I better get used to this idea. I still don’t want to kill anything, and I had hubby remove their heads, and from there I didn’t have too much problem. Hopefully the remaining 14 will go as smoothly. The girls were a great help picking out “the fat ones” and lovingly bringing them to their last moments. I’m amazed they’re so ‘un-squeamish’. In fact, when I make ham sandwiches for lunch, it’s “ooOOoo, Piggy! My favorite!” I’m sure they’ll do this in some fine dining place before too long.

We bought 5 turkey poults on Tuesday. So far so good with them. I’ve read that turkeys look for ways to die, at least for the first little while; then they’re virtually indestructible. I haven’t had any drown by looking up into a rainstorm, though. My father-in-law claims they’ll starve to death in a corner; that is, they get there face in there and don’t see their way out. I mentioned that wild turkeys seem to thrive in the wild, and he pointed out that there weren’t too many corners in the wild. Hm. Good point.

Today we went to town for a few mild errands. A handful of things from Costco, a receipt to have adjusted at a place I shopped last week (7.50 for a little pentec eraser thingy??), and an appointment with the midwife. Before I left, Hubby requested that the Japanese God of Speed required a sacrifice, and would I please take the dead battery from his big Kawasaki Police Motorcycle to the auto store and get a new one? Of course I acquiesced. My first stop was to get my money back from the office/school supply place, followed by a jaunt through one of those fancy science/educational/toy/hobby shops (maybe watercolors will keep Little Monkey from squeezing all the toothpaste into the sink?), and then to costco. By the time I got to the auto store, the battery had tipped over in my trunk. I held onto it with the plastic grocery bag I’d had with it and (those things are pretty heavy!) quickly hurried it into the store and plopped it onto the counter. Amid a mild splash. I’d wiped some water off my hand after turning the battery upright in the trunk, and wondered briefly if that was a good idea. The gal (yes, gal) behind the counter said, “wow, is that acid?” “I don’t know, I got some on me. It looks like water.” “Acid does look like water.” She called to the other gal (yes, 2 youngish girls who definitely knew their way around the auto parts store) to bring some baking soda. “We’ll see in a minute if it’s acid or not.” The other girl brought the soda, and the first gal tossed a pile of it on the puddle I’d made on the counter. There was a fine hiss and a lot of bubbling. And my hand was starting to feel a cool tingle. They pointed me to the back where I ushered my rowdy monkeys so I could use some of their specialty “acid-neutralizer for idiot women” product. I asked if said acid might not be good for the trunk of my car, and they recommended rinsing the rug off very well and using baking soda, which I could buy across the street at the dollar store. I had 25 minutes to get to my appointment, and that just didn’t fit into my schedule very well. The manager guy (yes, gray hair even) came out and witnessed my messy trunk, and we did one of those houdini tricks and pulled the rug out from beneath the groceries. Well, not that slick, but we did get the rug out. There was one small area that looked like it was suffering. Bless his heart, he offered to rinse it out and let it drip dry and I could pick it back up after my appointment. The girls at the counter were busy rehashing high school chemistry, trying to get the battery and their counter free of all the hazardous material I so nicely spread around. And they don’t stock the battery either. They can order it, for $81 plus tax, but they recommended I go to the temple of the Japanese God of Speed directly. The manager carefully wrapped my hazmat in some plastic bags, carefully placed in a box lined with several layers of cardboard and packed with newspaper around the edges. They don’t want to take any chances of me repeating the drama, I guess. He admonished me to get some water and baking soda on anything else that might’ve come into contact with the stuff (the edge of my trunk did). I drove to my midwife’s and asked for some baking soda. The office gal (midwife’s daughter) gave me some to wash my hand (it was feeling odd again) and I rubbed it on my leg that was feeling suspicious. She took the baking powder so I used damp paper towels to wipe it from my leg and took it out to my trunk. So far the trunk doesn’t have holes, but I haven’t checked it this evening. Seems to me my dad knew a guy that got water in his trunk. He removed the water by shooting several holes in the bottom of the trunk. Why am I not surprised? Anyways, this evening has been exhausting (I ‘chose’ to make pizza from scratch after such a day – I guess I deserve it). And I am going to show hubby the scripture that says, “thou shalt have no other god’s before me, lest I burn your wife with battery acid.” I’m sure that’s in there somewhere.