Journey Cover Band, The Photo

Hey, how are you guys?

New wondertime columns are here and here. You will notice that there's a link there to family.com, where the column is also going to appear. If you comment over there--well. I'll owe you. Swistle, remember how you asked if it matters to be, about the commenting? It does matter! Next round's on me!

No more grapey outbursts from me this week, no more cannedventures. It's just back to business. You know, like plugging up the cracks in the beams whence tumble the varmint turds onto the children's bed. The usual. But I'll tell you this, if it's bats: I like the word "histoplasmosis" even less than I like the word "guano." Which isn't saying much. Not that I'm neurotic. Even if that's what someone wrote on Amazon. Which hurt my feelings despite the fact that it's in the actual book title. Sigh.

And the winning reassurance is. . . .

"It's very unlikely that you will get botulism!"

That actually made me laugh out loud. As long as it's unlikely, well then.

But so far so good. I have now canned nearly a gallon of wild grape jam, which nicely combines my fear a) that they're not really grapes but in fact deadly nightshade masquerading grapily, and b) that, unlikely as it is, we will get botulism.

Oh, but the grapes! You can smell them everywhere right now. And when you mention them to anyone, they say, "Oh! So that's what that grapey smell was!" And yes. That's what it was. It was the grapes. The smell of grapes combined with the rust-colored afternoon light is catapulting me into fall. It feels good.

I responded to some of the comments on the last post. I'm sorry about your fish troubles, honestly. Keep me posted.

Hope you're all well and happy. New wondertime columns are here and here. Please read and comment over there, if you can!