I often forget this, but the mere act of writing about something puzzling somehow causes it to make sense. In response to my last blog post: at this point, I think it is very likely too late for me to go back to school, barring some sort of act of God. Also, there might be some movement towards Figuring Things Out in Mr. Milkweed's department. It's a small shift, and might only amount to releasing the parking brake on the whole issue, but we'll take what we can get.
In other news:
1) Fall roars at us like a freight train. Mr. M is back to school for the first time next Friday, causing the sort of squealing scramble panic more common to rats near open flame. Or roaches near a can of Raid.
2)They're back, by the way. Or never left. Or just keep coming back for more, given that our neighbors were once again without electricity for about 6 months and tossed another fridge full of spoiling food into their yard. We now have quarterly pest control service on the house, and it's working out quite nicely, because just when I see one "The Bug Man" is generally scheduled for the following week.
3)Eva starts preschool the week after Labor Day.
4)I'll be doing an Old Testament class that meets every Wednesday night-- it's part of the Education for Ministry curriculum designed by Sewanee, and I'm super-psyched about it. Because, well, Hittites and Moabites. And begat/begot, and mold. What's not to like?
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