Cold Spaghetti

We’re home!

Five of the seven fence posts are in. That’s four hundred pounds of concrete, not counting the weight of the water mixed in. Yowza. This picture is looking from our yard into our neighbor’s. You can see the metal fence posts and our lime tree (to the right) and Will (to the left). The old fence (which fell during tropical storm Cindy) is in back of Will.

I enjoying reading this interview with a very well-spoken Kelly Dougherty, who is an Iraqi war veteran. One of the many disturbing bits in the article…

First of all, when I was in Iraq, the news they showed, which probably won’t come too much as a surprise — they show FOX news. That’s all the coverage the military in Iraq gets.

Not surprising, but *yikes*.

So. Pat Robertson is crazy. Now that he has shown his true colors as a “terrorist“, as defined by our (their?) president, what I find crazy is that the Christian Right hasn’t rushed to discredit him as a spokesperson for their cause(s).

While many others believe themselves to be the ultimate mosquito magnet, I must argue, I have yet to meet anyone who can match my ability to get bitten. As a child, my bites were so plentiful and humongous that my poor legs were a mess of scars, bruises, and red lumps. I was forbidden to swim in the public pool at times. Parents and teachers questioned me about if I was being beaten at home. Medicines were sometimes taken.

There is some medical confirmation of my attraction. A doctor once told me that folks with my blood type (AB negative, present in less than 1% of the US population and the most rare) seem to attract more mosquitos. A possible, but odd, confirmation of this: on a Discovery show about vampires (I watched an odd assortment of things while confined to a breast pump after Will was born) a woman who claimed to be a vampire said that blood did differ in taste according to blood type, and that AB negative blood tasted the best, it was the sweetest.

Anyway, my point is:

What the frack is the deal with the mosquitoes in our front yard?!? I am beyond tired of getting bit several times every time I walk out my front door. And I *swear* it is something unique about our house. Yet there is no standing water anywhere in our front yard, porch, or (so we know) neighbors yards and porches. So where in the world are these beasts coming from?!?

Current thought: we have a storm drain in front of our house. Could they live in the storm drain? And if so, is there something I can do to kill them off? I will surrender my usual affection for organic yard applications in this instance. I want them dead and gone!!!

After 20 months of talking about it, I finally made a plate with Will’s handprint. It took some coordination from Paul and I to get his hand on the plate (notice that Will dragged a bit) and Paul had to babysit while I finished painting. But it was worth it! I picked up the final product today. The back reads HAS *heart* WSW. I can’t wait to do more!

Paul painting the numbers on the front of our house! They were painted over in the same white as the front of the house and not visible — we’ve been meaning to paint it for awhile. (Although this type of painting is usually my contribution, I cannot step outdoors past 7:30pm without turning into a ‘skeeter buffet. I did take on a few bites to get the outside view, though…)

Our house! Paul is painting the second house numbers over the door on the left. When it was originally built (circa 1900, give or take 10 years) it was two units that shared a center wall and fireplaces. We only use the door to the right, although it is popular to keep both doors in renovated houses to honor the wonderful architectural history.

Paul: “Will, do you have a poopie?”

Will: (while straining and grunting as his face turns red) “Noooooooooo…. ah”

*pause*

Paul: “Now do you have a poopie?”

Will: (with innocent, blinking eyes) “No.”

Will gives the duck statue a kiss (much to the delight of passers-by!)