I'll take the prize

I'm beginning to get the feeling that the judges at Montgomery County Fair are two sweet little ladies who just want everyone at the party to have a good time. No matter who shows up, no matter how lopsided and color-blind the entry, everyone ought to have something to take home.

That said, I'll take the prizes.

My first crocheted hat, with a blue flower no less. If I were being judged on the resemblance of this flower to the directions I attempted to follow, maybe it's not so great. But, who's to know it's not an original? Fifth, I'll take it.

My first crocheted shawl. The good thing about a shawl like this is that it has lots of blocks that are identical. By the time one makes one or two of them, it's kind of soothing (well, maybe mindless).

My first knit "stole." I would have called it a shawl (believe me, I have done shawls), but there is no "knit shawl" category. There is a "stole" category. This is a stole.

Enough excitement. Go think about Alberto Gonzales.

Siblings

If anyone expected that this blog was going to accurately keep up a good chronological record of things as they happened, I guess the past two weeks have gotten rid of that misconception.

Suffice it to say that two weekends in succession in Little Valley made me appreciate the siblings once again. From the youngest—mighty cool in the middle of a 13-hour trip out of BWI to Little Valleyto the oldest, and that one without a middle name (get over it John, there just wasn't time).

Despite the gray hair and the other niggling signs of age, we can still line up in chronological order and smile on command.

It was great to see so many in Rochester. Jim makes retirement look like a job he can handle.

At the gathering in Olean on Friday, Lily read books in the funeral parlor playroom, and Ed and Theresa and John S. and Sara remembered Mrs. Sheridan at the prayer service.

I have heard many of the family in the past two weeks do beautiful jobs of coming up with the right words at the right time. It's not easy. You're a talented bunch. And I agree. Ed was Mrs. Sheridan's favorite son-in-law.

Thank goodness for cell phones

Bridget could be reporting on her morning rush hour—no trains, no cabs, a the long HOT walk to work—but this is the picture she took on her cell phone.

That's not some kind of sweater thing on that woman. It's a cat, on a leash, on her shoulder. Bridget was behind the cat walker for about 7 blocks.

You won't get that news on CNN.

will it hold water?

It's hard to ice down in a shower, so Tom and Cullen have been strategizing on a way to drain water from a heavy tub that Cullen bought. It has involved a few trips to Home Depot's plumbing deparment for a spigot that would work, screws, the right drill, and the apparartus for attaching it (I think the word "flange" was used). Pretty exacting work, because, obviously, if the spigot isn't set right, the tub won't hold water. You'll have to imagine the faucet on the bottom of this tub, which will be elevated slightly so that it can drain.

The water went in, the water stayed in, and with a turn of the handle, the water drained!

Do we know how to celbrate birthdays? Bridget picked up two tickets and a parking pass for the Legg Mason tennis semifinals yesterday, so she and Tom spent the afternoon (90 deg, high humidity) watching, among others, Andy Roddick beat Ivo Karlovic. Then dinner at home: salmon, scallops, roasted peppers and tomatoes, sweet corn, and peach shortcake. Sorry for the lack of photos. In every one that I took, someone is a blur or out of focus.

But honestly, I can pull out almost any photo from the past 20 years, and Tom will look about the same, give or take a pair of crutches.

Here's to many more!