Well, I’m off to get my driver’s license today; I finally rounded up my divorce papers (from October 1988) and an official copy of my marriage license, and was able to get my name changed with social security. Sheesh. And now, of course, I’ll have to take the stupid written test, since my license has been expired for almost a month. Which means I need to grab a copy of the book thingy and go sit in the car and have a quick cram session —(which has always been my style of test-taking anyway)—especially on the subject of drugs, alcohol, and points. Those things seem to be the main focus of NC’s D.L. test—never mind trying to determine if any given individual has the knowledge needed to actually drive a car! Am I a little irritable?

Mama bantam has managed to lose all her chicks, the girls noticed yesterday. Some are better at this mothering business than others, I guess. The geese, on the other hand have done a magnificent job of raising their three goslings, who are now bigger than the Muscovies! They’re funny looking—so obviously a cross between the white goose and the Toulouse gander. They’re mostly white with very symmetrical and attractive grey patches. And woe be unto anyone who tries to check them out too closely; the geese seem to be a little irritable, too.

Today we had a lovely visit from DH’s gracious and elegant daughter, and her two cute sons, DH’s grandsons. They live in Boone, which is only two hours away, but might as well be a continent away, as often as we see those guys! Actually, MC is much better about coming down to see us than we are at getting up to see her! DH swears he’s going to do better. Where does the time go…..?

Besides just being fun and loving people to spend time with, MC and her crowd always inspire us to frantically clean house before they get here; I’m glad we have friends (and family) with higher standards of cleanliness–a visit is maybe the only way to get our house clean. As much as I love all my friends who are slobs, they do me no good at all in the housekeeping department.

It’s been really warm and humid they last several days—weather like this always makes me nostalgic for my Georgia childhood. I’ve got ARS on the stereo, and the girls are making peach ice cream; all’s right with my world.

The chiggers have, uncharacteristically, been pretty much a nonevent after the first day and night of intense and agonizing itching. I received a helpful comment about the true nature of chiggers, which prompted me to go online and search for more information, and here’s what I found:

Chiggers attach themselves to a pore or a hair follicle and create a feeding tube made of your hardened skin through which they suck your liquified skin cells. They can remain in place feeding for up to eight days, and they can move about to find a better spot (presumably someplace a little more tender and juicy); usually, though, they’re on you for a much shorter duration.

The general consensus is that fingernail polish doesn’t do anything; however, there is a small diehard contingent that insists that it works. This contingent, as far as I can tell, is pretty much made up of all southerners, which counts for a lot when we’re talking chiggers. And most agreed that it’s important to get the nail polish on as soon as possible—as soon as you know that it’s chiggers you’re dealing with.

So, here is my experience:

DH painted my bites, but missed two. The ones he painted stopped itching almost immediately, with just a few itchy flareups. I discovered the two unpainted ones that night in bed when they began to itch insanely and kept me up all night. The next morning I had two new bites on my ankle near one of the unpainted bites. We painted the ones we’d missed, and within twenty four hours they were all pretty much gone. I can see some marks where the bites were, but that’s all.

So, not exactly a scientific trial, but interesting nonetheless.

Do try to get clear nail polish, however.

I’m headed to work with DH this morning. He, fortunately, has an indoor painting job; he’d have a tough time working on his other outside job this week, as it is raining and blowing now, and is supposed to continue all week. It’s really pretty wonderful outside, though the darkness isn’t helping my already foul mood much.

The leftover cobbler I just had for breakfast will maybe help some.

There has been absolutely nothing of any interest to report the last couple of days, so I’ve spared y’all the boredom of reading blog posts about nothing. Up until now, that is. Because that’s what this post is about: nothing.

Yesterday I cleaned house and did a bunch of mending. It actually felt good to be motivated to do productive—if not very exciting— things.

Today I kept my average on the productivity scale low by lying in bed and reading. All day. Except for when I cooked supper and washed dishes and made a blackberry cobbler. Here’s the recipe for

The World’s Easiest Blackberry (or any other fruit) Cobbler

Put a stick of butter in a pyrex baking dish. Stick it in a 350° oven. Meanwhile, in a mixing bowl, whisk together a cup of self-rising flour, a cup of sugar, and a cup of milk. Pour the resulting very liquid batter into the pan of now melted butter, sprinkle with berries—preferably 2 or more cups—and bake until done. 20 minutes? Maybe. Tonight I doubled the recipe except for the butter, added a dash of cinnamon to the batter, and used heaps of big, fat, perfectly ripe blackberries, picked by DH and Bernard. It smells really good so far.

Well…tropical storm party anyway. Just the four of us, and it was very nice (we didn’t invite anybody else—nobody else would’ve wanted to try our driveway). DH went out to pick up shrimp and squash from Let It Grow, and we had a wonderful supper of steamed shrimp and squash cooked with lots of butter and black pepper and some onions. DH and I each had a rum drink, and the girls baked cookies and played Jimmy Buffett a little too loudly. It was grey and wet outside, with an occasional gust of wind to send the rain against the window—altogether a perfectly lovely day. None of us were ready for it to end; it’s looking like we may get a replay in a couple of days. Sounds good to me!

I have a terrible case of chiggers. The truly frustrating thing is—I have no idea where I could’ve gotten them! Seriously—I don’t even go outside these days (why would I? To look at the unmown lawn and the logging mess?). DH and I have been tracing my footsteps over the last few days and we don’t have a clue. But I definitely have them, millions of the little blood-suckers. I’m covered with ugly, itchy (insanely itchy) bites. All of which DH has just kindly painted with a very nice pale pink, sparkly fingernail polish. I am looking real good.

I am, however, having a rather poignant flashback of my grandmother gently scolding a young, naked me as she paints red polish on the many chigger bites I got from playing dressup with the spanish moss in her yard.

I wish I could figure out where these came from, so I could avoid going there again.