Small dose of big city

Big City Girl came for a visit this weekend. Here she is waving good-bye near the train station.

Just out of view is a big plastic bag loaded down with trinkets from home--a book, some clothes, homemade ginger snaps, and the cute little ceramic taxi. She declined our offer of toilet paper.

On Saturday night she went out with her best friend from high school and met up unexpectedly with a few people she's known since kindergarten. Then, about 10:30 or so, she sent me a text message to see if she and her friend could have a sleepover in our basement and share some of my special burritos. I passed this message on to Mr. Gadget and for several minutes we were speechless. "Isn't this something 14-year-old's do?" I asked incredulously. "Aren't these girls 24 now?" But of course we told them to come, because no matter what age your kids are, it's always good to know they're under your roof and not out roaming the universe.

So today's theme in the treehouse is sunflowers. I'm going to make a tissue holder for a friend who requested them.

And then I'll work on a witch doll dressed in sunflowers, since it's already witch season for crafters.

It's hard to even imagine Fall what with all the 90-plus degree days we're having. Mr. G, in spite of hating hot weather as much as I do, is in his element. He enjoys nothing more than managing the air flow in the house. He knows just when to turn on the air conditioner in the family room, and how to create wind-tunnel effects by turning on the upstairs fan and opening and closing doors. On numerous occasions he's tried to train me in his system, but I usually just throw up my hands and play dumb. It takes too much thinking and remembering. It's easier to go get a cold diet Coke out of the fridge.

Actually, I'm being extra nice to Mr. Gadget lately. On Friday, on a rare business trip to New Jersey, his fancy schmancy sports car got rear-ended by a guy who was in a big hurry to get through a toll booth.

After all of his tears were shed, I gently suggested that maybe he'd be better off with an airport car. Back in the days when I worked for an airline, I knew a flight attendant who actually coined the phrase airport car. She bought herself a fine-running used car with lots of dings. That way, she could park it at airports, shopping centers, and other high-traffic areas with nary a worry. I'd have an airport car too if Mr. G wasn't the designated car-shopper in our family. I always tell him as he's heading out the door, "Get me a red one with plenty of dings and hold the gadgets," but he never listens.....