Recently, in the Jones House…
New glasses were got:
(New glasses were got by Gamerboy, too, but I don’t have a picture of his.)
On the way home from town last week, I spotted a turtle on the center line of the highway. I rescued it, but it was closed up tightly and was bleeding from a hole in its shell. We were afraid it was dead. But we named it Corbin (for the highway we found it on), called it a he, made him a habitat, and, um, treated his wound.
Corbin was not dead. Anytime he dared to emerge from his shell, it was with the desperate, single-minded goal of getting AWAY. We took him in to the local wildlife center, who cleaned out the wound and said it didn’t look too bad. (Turtle shells regrow, like our fingernails. That’s what I learned.) They said they’d feed Corbin, make sure he healed, and sometime between now and spring we could pick him back up… to release him back into the wild.
After all, box turtles live up to 75 years. If we kept him as a pet, we’d be passing the thing down through a generation or so.
Four kids mourned deeply for the pet they didn’t get to keep. But the wildlife center said I could call and check up on Corbin periodically. And we did, after all, save a life. Even if it was just a turtle life.
(Update: Find out the end of Corbin’s story here.)
The kids play with my old phone now that I’ve upgraded. Apparently, the calendars are synced on the two devices. We know this because Gamerboy experimented by setting the event “Raaaaaar” on the calendar. He also set an alert to go off at 8am.
Each morning, I wake up to this on my phone. For the next 37 days.
Our last-of-summer family outing this year was a day at Hersheypark, PA. We’ve never been there before, figuring we’d wait until our youngest was old enough to make the hassle of an amusement park worth it. It was a good call.
It was a warm, sunny day, and we took our selfie facing cheerful Mr. Sun:
We did a family ride of The Comet, a midsized roller-coaster. That fulfilled my and DJ’s obligations, so we didn’t have to consider the insane coasters that involved climbing hundred-foot hills, careening upside down, and spinning in tight spirals — all at sixty miles an hour. Who thinks of something like this and says, “I bet we could put real humans on that!”
Bookgirl and Gamerboy got to go off on their own, and Ranger soon based his ride decisions on one important criterion: how long the line was. So in the afternoon, while DJ and I took him on the smaller rides, Sparkler joined her older siblings and rode The Comet three more times and a swing ride four times. By the end of the day, our feet were lodging violent protests. We stopped for souvenirs and the required Fun Day Meltdown.
(Ranger is tearfully telling DJ that he didn’t get the souvenir he wanted, on account of not wanting anything for sale in the souvenir shop.)
(I bought him a twisty straw.)
We had fun, we got tired, we’ll go back again.
Communication of likes and dislikes is a key to a good marriage.
The world around here is beautiful.