Where I've Been

Most readers know, but I've been too busy (and tired) to blog lately. Last week I spent Sunday afternoon through Thursday at Cub Scout Day Camp. Three words of description are hot, hot, hot.

If I go next year, I'll know many things to do differently, including:

• wear sunscreen on my hands (they look very old with a tan)
• borrow a REAL pop-up canopy rather than a tarp with stakes, free-standing poles, and rope
• take a backpack water bag (already bought one)
• start making nametags earlier than Saturday night

I spent Saturday through Tuesday traveling to and from, and having a lovely time, in beautiful (and beautifully cool) San Diego. I didn't take any pictures, but you can look at Whitney's pictures for a small taste of my trip (though I didn't stay at a hotel, shop, visit the Mormon Battalion Historic Site, or eat churros). But I did experience an earthquake and I had a great time with Brooke and Shanna, as well as seeing (uncle) Burton and Janiece and various husbands and children of the cousins.

Reciprocal

When someone says that being around me makes her want to be a better person, it makes me want to be a better person. So, thank you S!

Body Farm West

A few of my relatives (well, maybe one) are perhaps envious that I live relatively close to the famed Body Farm, where Dr. William Bass and his colleagues observe and record the effects of decay on dead bodies.

I'm thinking about starting my own Body Farm. I would call it Body Farm West, since I'm West of Knoxville. Let me describe how I acquired the first specimen.

Perhaps unwisely, I only venture into the back yard once a week. When I come home at night, I do check the back door and shed door, but that's about it. Monday, I went into the yard to retrieve the garden hose. On the steps to the sliding door, I saw several large bird feathers, lots of goo, and various flies and maggots. I'm sure you can guess what that was all about. It had shown up sometime in the preceding ten days, after the last time I mowed the back yard. The smell, I might add, was horrendous.

I promptly retrieved the hose and left the yard. I went back yesterday. The amount of goo had decreased, and a bird skull and several bones were now evident. I covered the whole mess with cat litter and am hoping that if I ignore it for a while, it will all go away. If not, maybe I can start a new career as a forensic anthropologist. I'm sure many bird owners out there would be grateful for my contributions to the science.

Q is for ?

Why is the word Quebec so hard to remember?

When I can't sleep at night I recite various texts from memory to pass the time. One (short one) I like to say is the ICAO spelling alphabet. However, I always seem to get stuck on Q. I've been trying to remember "Quebec" for about 10 days, and finally remembered to look it up today.

If only my dad lived in Canada, I'd never forget that one.

1 2 3 Finish

I spent yesterday thoroughly cleaning the kitchen and then undoing the whole thing by cooking.

First Place: Fresh Strawberry Sorbet, the maiden outing for my KitchenAid ice cream maker attachment.

Second Place: Grandpa's White Cake. This strong contender missed out on first place for lack of the seven-minute frosting, which I was too lazy to make. I ate it with lime curd instead.

(Distant) Third Place: America's Test Kitchen's Everyday Light Mac and Cheese. Ugh. I'll probably finish it anyway, since I can't bear to waste that much cheese.

Judges' Choice: Strawberry Freezer Jam (made on Saturday)