What's the significance? I don't know.

I actually have time to write something, feel like writing something, and yet nothing is bubbling to the tips of the my fingers. Bah! Figures. Oh, the old bullet stand by, of course.

• Orrin loaned me his ipod shuffle for me to take to the gym to listen to music while I run. I had been actually reading magazines and running at the same time. On a treadmill of course. It'd be just plain weird running down the street reading a magazine. Of course reading cooking magazines while you are running might be a little counter productive. Anyway. he point is, I need help with this ipod thing. Yeah, I'm an idiot. How freaking old are ipods? I've never used imusic before, I have no idea how to actually get music on to the device, how to move it around. Ok, I have some idea, but it seems so slow and cumbersome, I can't believe that I am doing it correctly. So, Catherine, I need a tutorial. Or better yet a visit!
• The garden is doing great. Orin took pictures the other day. Unhappily, I am in them all, looking sweaty, city, tired, and grumpy. There may be one or two where I am not flipping him off. So no pictures, for now. We had fried rice with scrambled eggs for dinner the other night, where everything but the rice came from the backyard. Ok, the canola oil, ginger, garlic, and soy sauce didn't either. Picky.
• I really want to make grilled zucchini to go with dinner tomorrow night but I know we will be up to our ears in zucchini soon so I'm making myself wait. The two plants are covered in flowers and baby zucchini right now. They are a round french variety, so I am anxious to try them.
• We did harvest a cup of red raspberries today. They are just starting to ripen so we should have lots more. There are 2 blueberries on the blueberry bush. The potatoes are blooming. The lettuce all bolted while we were away. The green beans failed to germinate, again. So now we are on round 3. Different variety this time. We found a big patch of black raspberries while out walking the dog this evening. I don't know if Emmet will let me pick enough to make anything with them, or if he'll just inhale them all.
• When I took the boys strawberry picking with me last week, I had to coax Silas into sampling one. He knew his job was to fill the flat and he didn't want to eat any until his job was done. Meanwhile, Emmet tried to take a bite out of every berry in the field.
  
• Orrin is pounding away at the front door. He forgot his keys again. Ha ha. No, he's chiseling in the place for the hinges on the new front door. His Dad found this mission style oak door for $25 at a re-use center. Orrin has stripped, rebuilt, sanded, routed, glued, and chiseled it, and it's still not done. He's also purchased about $200 worth of tools, equipment and supplies. So, if you consider that his time is worth nothing, it's a great deal!
• I don't really care about the cost. Orrin assures me only about 10% of that is consumables the rest he'll be able to use the next time he restores a door. The door is looking really nice, but is taking longer than either of us expected or hoped.
  
• Silas told me this story at bedtime tonight: A boy made a sign for his bedroom that said no people allowed. Daddy made him take it down and put up a sign that said no boats allowed. But then a bunch of water filled the room. The boy put up a sign that said no monsters allowed. Then a monster came and ate the sign. And then he ate the little boy! But the monster spit him out and the boy was all ooey gooey. The monster was very sick and had to go to the hospital.
  

Casualty

After checking the bees this afternoon we were sitting on the back stoop talking about how the hive is doing. Emmet climbed over into my lap and put his hand right on top of an errant honey bee. Stinger right to the meaty part of his palm.
The strawberry popsicle seems to have done wonders for the injury. Although every now and then he holds up his hand and says, "bee, hurd, bee, hurd."

Goats are against city ordinance

Silas was jumping on the bed when he was supposed to be getting dressed. So I asked him, "Silas, what happens to monkeys that jump on the bed?"
"They fall off and bump their heads. But I'm a goat so, you don't have to worry."
"Oh," I said. "And I heard that green goats go faster than black goats." This was some weird chanting song that he raced around the kitchen at Mom's house screaming while Ellis raced after him.
"Yes!" he shouted, looking surprised that I too knew this basic fact about green goats. "You tell Aunt Rachel that because she thinks that black goats are faster."

Flutter Bye

Several weeks ago Orrin took Silas to a Butterfly class at one of the local elementary schools.
They played butterfly bingo, won butterfly tattoos, (ratoos as Silas calls them), built a butterfly house, colored butterfly pictures, made a butterfly journal, and got to bring home six caterpillars in a jar filled with a gross looking caterpillar food paste.
Silas's assignment was to watch the caterpillars everyday and record his observations. We did ok until the camping trip, although his drawings may not have been the most accurate he enjoyed watching the caterpillars get fatter and made precise comments about how much food they had and where it was smeared in the jar.
When we came back from the camping trip they were all wrapped up int their chrysalises so we missed watching that. But we moved them to their butterfly house so when the emerged they could stretch their wings.
Silas drew a few more pages in the journal, selecting bizarre colors and odd orientations. Finally a couple days ago the first 5 emerged. Although we didn't see them in action they did leave weird red splatters all over the bottom of their house. There was one little chrysalis left to hatch (is that right?) and I vowed to watch it closely so that we would see the butterfly come out. Ha! Like I'm that good to just sit around watching a couple paper plates and netting... So we didn't see the last one emerge either. But emerge it did.
We fed them by soaking some cotton balls in sugar water. But after a day of that we decided it was time to let them go. Silas carried the butterfly house out to the back yard and we unceremoniously ripped the netting from the staples to release the butterflies. Silas was very gentle in untangling the netting and let one butterfly go at a time. Following it up into the air and letting everyone know where it landed or disappeared.
The boys examined and poked at the empty chrysalis husks. Silas kept explaining to Emmet that there were caterpillars inside. And not to touch the butterfly wings becasue the scales would rub off and they wouldn't be able to fly. It was very cute.
The last butterfly to escape the house may have gotten injured in the flurry of netting, or maybe she always had a wonky wing. But she couldn't fly very well. Silas coaxed her onto a stick, and then discoved that "she likes my finger better." He placed her in a potted geranium so she could have something to eat. But before we went in for the night she had flown over to the sunflowers, though I doubt she makes it through the night. In case you are wondering, the butterflies are painted ladies.