Jo's Boys

Thank You, Alaska

Alaska made this one waaaaaayyyyyyy too easy. Way, *way* too easy.

Here's what she asked:

"You know it's fall in State College, PA when every store including the grocery store and pharmacy carries Penn State pillows and blankets for sale and large blue signs appear by the sides of the road saying, "Football traffic next right."

What are the signs of fall where you live?"

I didn't even ASK her to do this.  She just fell right into it.

Okay, Alaska.   I'll play your fun little game.  Because the foliage here never changes.  I can sit in my office typing on my computer and look out the window:  it's the same all year round. It never, ever changes. 

And then there's the weather.  It's only ever Hot, Really Hot and OHDEARGOD I CAN'T BREATHE hot. 

So there's really only one thing that tells me that it's fall:

Oh look! 

A hurricane is going to hit me on Thursday!

Let me think... hurricanes hit us in August, September and October so...

It must be fall. 

Blah blah blah whatever.

You know, if you listen to Them long enough you'll think that They actually know what They are talking about. 

You know, Them.  They who forecast hurricane predictions four months before the start of hurricane season, using phrases such as:

"This year's hurricane season will bring twelve named storms, seven of which will be category 3 or higher, 3 of which will strike Florida, 2 of which will turn into the Gulf and 2 of which will steer north of Florida on the eastern coast of the U.S."

Ya know, I'll start listening to Them when they can actually tell me what EACH INDIVIDUAL STORM THAT THEY ARE ACTUALLY TRACKING LIVE IN THE WATER WILL DO and tell me correctly.   Until They can do THAT, I will not believe Them when They make predictions months in advance.

Three days ago it was that Augusto or whatever will not make it past a tropical depression.  Then, last night, it was that Augusto would peter out into oblivion.  Now it's that Augusto will be a hurricane.  Ya think? 

Duh.

So it's raining really hard here (which is good; we need the rain) but some poor schleps in the middle of nowhere on the Florida armpit-shaped coast are scrambling their rear ends off trying to find whatever it is that they think they might need (hint: they'll be wrong) for Alberto. 

Ah, well.  At least it's good napping weather. 

Earlier this afternoon I found Oldest and his faithful sidekick PepperCat lounging lazily in bed. 

Oldest totally has a thing for camoflauge.  It's all he wears.  You'd think we were hunters or something, but we're not.  Go figure. 

But the cat matches quite well with the decor, which is more than I can say for my Mom and Dad's cat, who is earthen-toned in a home full of black/white/burgundy.  So at least my cat matches my son's bedding.  That counts for something.

They love each other.

Joy.

Whelp, it's eleven days into hurricane season 2006 and we have our first named storm!  Join me in welcoming Tropical Storm Albert!  Or Alberto!  Or something like that.  Because since last year we went through the entire alphabet and then started in on Greek letters and we Floridians have just totally gotten to the point where we don't even really pay much attention to each individual storm's correct name. 

See how it's supposed to come right over me?  How charming. 

I will not anger Dy by being negative.  I will concentrate on the positives!  Because there are always positives, after all.  These being:

1. At least it's not a huge hurricane
2. We actually need the rain, since we've had a severe drought for many months and lots of wildfires throughout Florida.
3. At least I don't live on the coast. 

And when there's a storm way, way out in the middle of nowhere in the ocean, you can still look up in the sky and see that there's a storm.  The clouds look dark and ominous, but it does not rain:

This was the sky late yesterday, with no rain, and with a heavy smell of wildfire in the air.  Bizarre.  This is absolutely the strangest state weather-wise.  Nothing like having stormy clouds in the sky with no rain and wildfires.

But, my boys took advantage of the fact that it was overcast, because had it not been they never would have been outside doing this:

Because earlier yesterday when Mr. Jo's Boys came home from work the thermometer on his car read 107.  Which means that it was REALLY HOT. 

But while they were playing basketball (and I was not), I found the second caterpillar of the season moseying (is that a word?) through my garden area:

He was looking for something to eat (milkweed).  Unfortunately for him, he was about to wander completely out of the garden area and out into the lawn, which would have been the end of him for he would have been lost forever/gotten stomped on/been mowed down.  It's a tough life for a caterpillar, so I was happy to provide immediate transportation to a willing food source:

And he ate and ate.  In fact, I'm sure you can tell that he was not the first hungry little caterpillar to be eating this particular milkweed plant.   Some milkweed plants are literally consumed completely, as in all leaves, all stems and the plant's stalk down to to the dirt, at which point you would never even know that there had ever been a tall, mature, flowering milkweed plant there at all.