We should at least charge rent

How many different types of wildlife have to reside in an area before it's declared a 'wildlife refuge'? And are bees technically considered wildlife?

Lately when we've been outside on our patio, we've noticed that there are a few more bees than you might typically expect at an outdoor function. A couple weekends ago when we had a little get-together, one of our guests pointed out that he was noticing that the bees seemed to be disappearing inside the wall, close to the light that doesn't turn on (some of you are familiar with this light).

Then, two mornings ago, Jeff was back from his run and was stretching in the sunroom monitoring his breathing, listening to the birds, when he noticed a certain buzzing that broke his reverie. A buzzing coming directly from his left. A buzzing coming alarmingly from inside the wall. Hmmm.

Today we had a bee expert out to the house. Did you know that bee experts have special stethoscope-microphone devices designed especially for listening to bees through walls? And, if you're an especially good bee expert, you can tell by the decibel meter approximately how many bees you might be dealing with. Let's just say that the bee expert likened listening to our wall to attending this really killer Led Zeppelin concert back in the 70s.

It seems that word is getting out among the animal kingdom. The Price house is open for wildlife. Rodents in the attic, bees in the wall -- what's next? Snakes in the sewers? God, let's hope not.

"Flint's finest hour"

The Crim Festival of Races was today in Flint. The races include a 10-mile wheelers, 10-mile run, 8K run, 8K walk, 5K run, 5K Family Walk, 1-mile run, 1-mile walk, and a Teddy Bear Trot. The races attract participants from all over the world and is arguably one of the best things that happens in Flint. As the announcer said on ABC12 this morning, Crim race day is "Flint's finest hour."

Jeff and I had been living here for about 4 months when we experienced our first Crim last summer. The course is 10 miles long, starts in the heart of downtown Flint, and eventually winds its way through our neighborhood. We live near the 7-mile mark. The morning of the race, we were awakened by the sound of a marching band that sounded like they were right in our backyard. Turns out they were one street over, but still, a pretty rousing way to start the day! We watched as over 1200 people ran, walked, and wheeled their way toward the finish line.

One year later, and Jeff was in the pack sporting number 3121 on his shirt and I was on my bike watching for him.

Hi Jeff! (yelling and waving my arms, notice the two guys in the foreground with their bewildered expressions)

(Jeff isn't actually in this photo, but I thought it was a nice shot.)

Leaving our neighborhood after coming up a very long hill.

Gooooooooo, Jeff!

Crossing the bridge over the Flint River. About 1 mile to go.

Yay, Jeff!!!!!!!!!

Where have all the good clothes gone?

I just got back from some retail therapy... bad news, people. There simply are no good clothes for fall. Pull out the old stand-bys from last year, because trust me, even if they're faded or a little pilled under the arms, they're probably still better than what I saw today.

Here is a list of problems encountered this afternoon.

1. The no. 1 problem plaguing the fall fashion line-up can be summed up in this question I overheard in two different dressing rooms in two different stores: "Does this shirt make me look pregnant?" I mean seriously, does every single shirt have to have an empire waist with a voluminous bottom half? Do the fashion designers of the world have no faith in American women and have thus determined that the best way of dealing with a little unwanted padding around the middle is to simply borrow the tried-and-true pattern from their good friends in maternity wear?
2. Unless your name is Anne and you hail from Green Gables, you might find the puffed sleeve trend a little disturbing. Actually, Anne is currently sporting at least 2 of fall's heavy-hitting trends, the aforementioned puffed sleeves, and the ruffled bodice. Another terrible idea if you have anything over what, a B cup?
   
3. My final gripe with this year's fall fashion is the cropped round-button 3/4-sleeve boxy jacket. Here's how this one goes. The designers of the world united and said, "Let's take some beautiful wool, known for its fluid drape, and wrap it around your shoulders, buttoning at the neck so that the fabric lies over the largest part of your torso and then extends down in a straight line from there. Voila! Perfection!"

So, let's take a stand. If no one buys into any of these trends and the clothes stay on the shelves, perhaps they'll start making some reasonable clothes again and we can all get dressed without having a meltdown every single morning.

Workin' it

This afternoon was my first chance to attend the AquaBox class since that first day. Knowing that pool space is at a premium in this class (don't have to tell me twice!), I got there early. Many of the same ladies were there. This time, the nice lady who almost drowned suggested that she be in front of me from the start. Good idea.

So, there I was kind of hanging out by the wall warming up my arms as the other ladies chatted amongst themselves. One lady was mentioning that she hasn't been here the last few weeks because she was visiting her daughter in Arizona. The others were glad to see her again. There was discussion of weekend plans and grandchildren. And then the conversation turned, as it sometimes does when a group of women get together, to men.

"So, Dory, what are you doing this weekend?"

"Well, I'm actually, I'm going to have to leave class early today to get ready for this afternoon."

"Oh? What are you doing?"

"Well," she continued, lowering her voice and fluttering her eyelashes a little bit, "my friend is picking me up. We're going to dinner at the 21 Club."

"Ohhhhh!"

"Is this the same boy that you play chess with, Dory?" asked the third woman.

I stood there, respectfully looking at the walls around the pool, checking the clock, basically anything I could do so they wouldn't think I was listening -- but of course I was! Anyway, I was struck by the word 'boy'.

Blushing a little, Dory responded. "Yes." She quickly continued. "But, I don't think it's going to go anywhere for heaven's sake! He is 20 years younger than me."

I almost gasped out loud!

I'll admit, the first time I went to class, the ladies struck me as the kind who enjoyed coming to this class for a little workout and company and then went home and did grandmother-esque type things... like, bake cookies or visit their grandchildren or knit. But, apparently I had it all wrong. These ladies are working out for a reason. They are working out in order to work it! You go, girl!

I cocked my head a little more toward them because their conversation had gotten conspiratorially low.

"Dory," the woman floated a little closer, "you never know." And then she winked.

Job requirements: Punch, kick, talk and make it look easy

Tonight at kickboxing, my fabulous instructor said something to all of us at the end of class:

"Stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff, Oh, and if you're ever interested in teaching, I would be happy to train you..."

What?! Seriously??

Okay, need to go back a little bit. Somewhere along the line, I developed this list of jobs that I thought would be really fun and that I'd like to do at some point in my life.

On my list:
1. Farmer
2. Bartender
3. D.J.
4. Mailman
5. AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR

I have already held the following jobs: farmer and bartender. Bartending was much more fun and a helluva lot more profitable than farming. Holy cow, do you know how hard it is to be a farmer? Good grief those people work hard.

Anyway, not to brag or anything, but my kickboxing instructor has called me 'hard core' on more than one occasion. I think I may be punching my way toward crossing one more job off my list.

Oh, to runaway and join a rock band

An open letter to Jack Johnson (my new favorite singer of all-time)

Dear Jack:

I have recently discovered your work through Pandora Radio. I bought your CD In Between Dreams yesterday at my local Target. I played it for the first time this morning as I got ready for work. I even made my husband listen, too. Well, to be fair, probably even the neighbors heard it, as I had it cranked up to maximum volume. I love to dance (although I'm not what you'd consider a good dancer) and I danced as I applied my eye shadow.

I love your music. And, as it turns out, I'm a musician, too. Flute. Now, I've listened to your CD about 3 times through today and I will admit, I was trying hard to imagine some flute sounds mixed in with this fabulous music because then, well, you would need a flute player and I would so do it. Bad news. I don't think you need flute. Which sucks. Because I would totally be in your band. I noticed you used accordion on a couple tracks. That was cool.

I would still like to be in your band, so I've come up with the following ideas..... 1) Nada.

Lame. I would like to be in a rock band. I could do it.

Well, if you ever need a flute player or a pretty bad dancer (I do kickbox quite well, though, and that's kind of like dancing...well, I can totally punch in perfect time at any tempo), please don't hesitate to call.

Sincerely,
Jess

Knotted, er, I mean, knitted

It's 11:47 p.m. and I should be in bed. It's officially past my bedtime, but I am committed to a project that I started almost 3 hours ago. To turn this mess into...

This.

How did I get here, you may ask? Well, it all started much earlier today. We'd just had coffee and I was sitting in our office (my new favorite place to sit) looking at our newly installed bookshelves that were just waiting to be filled with all of our music books and flute and saxophone CDs. A long project, but with a very satisfying result.


Then I turned my attention to the closet in one of the guest rooms that was one of the last refuges of boxes from our move last year. The boxes contained mostly old quilts and blankets from our childhoods. They were nice boxes to open.



At the bottom of one box, I found my knitting bag, which I hadn't thought about in about 3 years and before that, 12 years. Jeff had joined me in the sorting process by then and found this little test piece I had made.

He was so impressed -- seriously! And I was like, this is nothing! Back in my youth, I actually knew how to knit and made my very own sweater and everything, which got a blue ribbon at the 4-H fair, thank you very much. (There's no way I could do that now, by the way...) Anyway, there he was, standing there all impressed and the topic of scarves came up. So I asked him if he would actually wear a scarf if I made it and he said definitely yes. And he would tell everyone that I made it for him, too.

So this evening I sat down with my mother's trusty "Learn How to Knit" book that has both left- and right-handed instructions (lefty here) that has all the patterns I recognize. It came back pretty quickly, so I was inspired to get to work on the scarf this very night. (I must admit that I was perhaps influenced by my recent completion of The Friday Night Knitting Club, a book I enjoyed very much.)

I pulled out the lovely green wool yarn that I bought 3 years when I last thought I might knit something nice for Jeff. It was wrapped in this beautiful figure-8 twist. I found the end, but then something terrible happened and I ended up with the mess you saw at the top. So here I sit. Pile of knotted wool yarn in front of me, wishing I could go back in time and be much more careful as I pulled on the loose end. *sigh*

It is nice to have a project.