a moment of silence; son goes away; wife returns

My spuds in the trash can are dead, killed by the heat. They were doing really well until then. The memorial service will consist of emptying the can out and drying the soil, and hoping they haven't all rotted.

---

I've been ironing dozens of name tags onto my son's clothes before sending him off to camp tomorrow. I hate to say it, but my mood's about to improve markedly. He's spent most of the last two months unmedicated so he can eat & sleep.

---

Nibs gets Bombed tomorrow, and hopefully starts moving around more shortly afterward. Thanks to better health insurance, she's gone from every six months to every five.

stinking up the cul-de-sac

Remember my spuds from the previous entry that got killed by the heat? Well, I had to get them out of the trash can they were growing in so I could toss them in the yard waste and spread the soil on a tarp to dry prior to storage.

Now, my sense of smell is somewhat less keen than average, for which I'm occasionally grateful. It was to no avail this time, though. My poor neighbor was out watering things, and I apparently gassed him into his house from a good fifty feet away.

@*%#ing heat wave. They were doing so well I was hoping I could take a picture when they got as tall (including can) as I am.