…but I won’t bore you with that. There was a lot of existential talk during The Commander’s last year, *especially* the last seven weeks as Clostridium difficile did its dirty (dirty dirty) work*. I cannot for the life of me find the tweet now but I am sure that I once tweeted something about how sick to death I was of circular existentialist conversations that seemed to have no end. The problem is, I also totally utterly absolutely understood her questions. I just didn’t have any answers, at least not any kind of answers that would satisfy her questions. I sometimes wished I could talk to *her* mother (my grandmother Emily, who died in a car accident many years before my birth) so I could ask her what the heck mom was talking about. But when I looked around the room, I was the only one there. No mooooom, I am not god or whoever and I love you but I just don’t know. Maybe *she* knows now. I hope she has seen Emily (her mom) again. The Comm missed Emily greatly even as she went on into the future and built a wonderful adult life. (If so, I hope Emily is keeping mom and her sister Roberta from duking it out like they tried to do at that noodle restaurant in Royal Oak back in 2006… [grin])

I said I wouldn’t bore you with existentialism but there I went, off on an existential tangent. Today? We did our quick little urban hiking route down by Barton Dam early this morning. I don’t think we’ve been over there since maybe May? I could prob’ly look it up on my blahg but I’d get so bored by all the blather that I’d be head-down on the keyboard by the time I found the answer. Amtrak came by while we were on the trail section that trespasses next to the tracks so I put a cute little five second train video on facebook. Amtrak honked at me. A fb friend flattered me by saying maybe I was cute but actually the GG was standing behind me and waved at the train. I think Amtrak is so accustomed to (and probably annoyed as all getout by) people hanging out by that stretch of tracks that it doesn’t take much for them to give a little toot toot. Kinda like when you are kayaking near the shipping channel in the upper St. Mary’s and a freighter comes by.

My Mouse came over to harvest basil and a few loverly ‘maters from her glorious garden today. She heard Froggy grokking away out in the Frog Hopper and launched a rescue operation. Froggy and New Froog and Turnstile and Softy Beanbag had apparently been stuck out in the Frog Hopper for a WEEK, aka they didn’t make it into the house after we returned from HL last Sunday. I guess we aren’t very good parents, are we, leaving sentient beings in an automotive vee-hickle for a week. Anyway, upon tasting a wee bit of freedom, our fav-o-rite froog launched a tomato stealing expotition and there he is with a couple of his friends, tangled up in the tomato patch. Softy Beanbag apparently stayed out of the fray.

Kudos to the GG for cleaning all of the flotsam, jetsam, and cosmic debris out of the driveway. He said something like, “this has been a mess for years now.” I replied with something like, “I know, I’ve been ignoring it for years now.” Actually, I haven’t been ignoring it exactly. It’s just that I wasn’t sure how much of the “stuff” hanging out there was “valuable” or not. I wouldda flung most of it. Not sure what the GG flung but it looks wonderful out there now.

A second walk at the Devine Nature Preserve this afternoon and then nap-time for the GG and blood-time for KW (i.e., I shaved my legs and knicked in such an inconspicuous place that I-ee-I-ee-I-ee-I couldn’t even figure out where all the damn blood was coming from…) Yeah, TMI, roight… We’re about to throw our Harnois cornish hens and some Farmer John corn on the grill and we have some Mouse-grown tomatoes that I’ll just slice up. And we’ll transition into the evening not to mention the workday tomorrow… hi ho…

*There is a very effective treatment for Clostridium difficile nowadays. It’s called fecal transplant and whatever you are imagining about that is probably true. Yuck, roight? Yes. Nevertheless. That treatment was not mentioned when my mom had c. diff. I had no idea it existed, not to mention I had no idea what c. diff WAS(!!!). No longer than one damn year later, the elderly mother of a yooper friend of ours developed c. diff — in the damn hoosegow because that’s where people get it. A fecal transplant quickly brought her back to health.

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