The grandsons are back. The long list is slowly whittling down. The weather is summer hot and lazy. The insurance company has yet to send out the adjuster, though I will concede they are probably inundated at the moment. The next door neighbor’s roof was deemed to be “trashed.” I’ve had a contractor here to look at the windows and paint. All things I did not wish to spend my July dealing with, except the grandsons.
The boys have gone to bed, so there is quiet in the house, the first all day, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting and writing. This day’s accomplishment, besides keeping the boys alive, was getting all of my parent’s vinyl records into the record boxes brought from Grand Junction. I put an old classic on and started dancing to the swing. The boys laughed so hard I thought they would pee their pants. Come on now. It couldn’t have been that bad.
Later in the day when the boys were playing downstairs and I was up, here they came and asked me to put some music on. A person can stack the records about eight high in that old player. Maybe I’ll try some Eddie Arnold on them next. I think I’ll have to ease them into the classics.
My five year old grandson says his two favorite things are push-ups and pulling weeds. He is the “master” at those two things, he says. Funny thing is, he is good at both. He’s been around my yard and weeded all of the gravel areas, and he did twenty-one pushups to show me. They weren’t slouch pushups either, no butt up in the air. He gets flat at a board and up and down he goes. He also climbs trees without assistance, although I will have to help him sew the shirt that ripped when it got caught on the tree limb. Oh well. That’s something I can do, cause I’m sure as heck not climbing that tree with him.