Miscellany

So the other day I had to cancel a party. The real reason had little to do with me, but I took the opportunity to do some constructive conjecturing. For instance, nobody would have come to my party anyway. Because I have no friends. And also people don't like me.

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Noah and I  recently began clearing the underbrush from the Poo Woods to transform the area into Fort Etheridge. As it turns out, we have several hundred square feet back there, which is utterly perfect for all manner of fort building. While I envision a little stone pathway leading up the hill to the front entrance, Noah has images of gangways and crow's nests dancing in his head. Whatever. As long as I have a place to plant the hostas (because a fort isn't always under siege, so you might as well have something nice to look at).

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Ethan asked me to play "beeseball" with him today during his allotted and forsook naptime. I'm still amazed by the weather: 60s–70s, blustery, crunch leaves flying by on the wind, after a summer of record-breaking 90+ degree heat. Anyway, I tossed him a softball while he held his Little Tykes t-ball bat in a remarkably close-to-correct batting stance (lefty, by the way), and he hit the ball! Three times! Sure I shouted "hit it!" every time I tossed the ball; but the only difference between me and a major league coach is the hand signals.

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