Back in July we had a get-together for Alex's homecoming, and here are a few pix from then:

The cats are usually with me, Dracula still determined to suck on my ears (though he'll accept Dmitry as a substitute if my ears are unavailable), and Magellan still exploring:

This past Sunday was Dmitry's 19th birthday, and that was the most discombobulated party I've ever given.  No real present, no beverages, no cake, no ice cream....just salads, which was what he asked to have. 

Had six of the grandkids here for it:  Brianna, Benjamin, Hannah, Bryson, Bridgette, and Faith (that's supposed to be in chronological order, though it's possible I messed up).  Bethany had another party to attend so she wasn't here, more's the pity, and neither was li'l Kirsten.  Six out of eight is not a bad showing, however. 

That's Bridgette up above, and here's Hannah giving Brianna a massage:

Several of the children gathered on the front porch while waiting for Uncle Alex (or Daddy, as the case might be) to arrange a scavenger hunt for them:

Everything's more exciting in the dark and with flashlights. 

This is simply a precious photo of my precious Benjamin Bunny:

The day before the party, I drove Zhenya down to Lynn Smith Chevrolet, where my dearest bro-in-law, John, had found him the perfect car, a 2001 PT Cruiser with 45K miles:

If you look carefully Zhenya's pleased face is visible:

Back to Sunday evening, I took Jessica's girls home then met Kirstin at her church to hand over the boys;  we beat her there so they played on the playground:

This afternoon Elaine and her girls combined entrepreneurship and generosity as they had a lemonade/iced tea stand set up so as to raise money for Operation Christ Child boxes:

By golly, they were snagging some customers!  One pulled up right as I was leaving;  here's Margaret carefully taking the lemonade to the car:

I know posting has been lackluster of late, but I think that's going to change before long. 

A friend of hers is a scribbler of "doodles and rhyme" and here's one called "Birthday Suit".

I still have on my "birthday suit,"
But it's beginning to show the wear,
Having all the signs of aging,
And places that easily tear.

Now nothing irons out the wrinkles,
And the seams seem to shrink and sag.
My once and handsome tailored garb
Fits like a shroud with a red tag.

Blotches and spots en masse appear
With no way they can be erased.
The healthy hues of pinks and tans
Have muted into paper paste.

When comes the time to take it off
("For flesh and blood no kingdom gains"),
I'll be so sick and tired of it,
I won't care much for what remains.

But pay no mind.  Have no concern.
I have a new one laid away.
It's up-to-date of highest style
and cannot ever fade or fray.

Not of water, but of the Blood
This vestment of my second birth
Is of fair cloth not sewn with hands,
And will for aye retain its worth!

Sigh.

My wretched memory has struck again, and I can't recall what I did that day, particularly.  Beyond going up to the church in the early evening or late afternoon for the 8 p.m. wedding.

I'm not going to sit around and be morose, however.  That accomplishes zip.  I'm having lunch with Jonathan at the Black-Eyed Pea, then run errands, and tonight Elaine and I are braving the wilds of Dallas to attend the Men's gymnastic competition of the United States Gymnastics Competition being held at the American Airlines Center. 

Just yesterday evening we were talking about it (never said I'm an especially entertaining conversationalist).

Tonight I decided to take a nice warm bath with the lavender oil I'd bought at Wal-Mart today.  There I was, soaking away, reading "Chairman of the Bored" (by Edward Streeter, and if you've not read it, you should), when to my horror I saw one of the big disgusting things crawling down the inside of the shower curtain liner, heading right for the tub, water, and me.  

Hastily - though carefully - I jumped out of the tub.  First I tried hitting the shower curtain on the outside, hoping to knock the bug into the water.

Stupid thing stayed firmly put.  Used the book in an attempt to brush it into the water, but all that accomplished was to make it scurry down the shower curtain, out of sight.

I figured I'd be better prepared for the battle if I was dry and clothed, so I warily kept watch as I got the towel, dried off and put on my nightgown and a pair of good, stout shoes.  Retrieving a can of bug spray from under  the sink, I advanced into the bathroom, and sprayed behind the right side of the toilet (which is next to the tub), then retreated a prudent distance.

Nothing.  Tried again, this time on the left side of the tub.  Again nothing.

Bother.  Next I gingerly looked at the shower curtain, but couldn't see it.  Leaned over to let the water drain out, then stood back, can in hand, waiting. 

Feeling really sort of stupid, standing there in my nightgown and shoes and holding a can of bug spray, but there it is.  Dumb bug.

After several minutes my impatience grew - not to mention getting tired of standing there like that - and I began to slowly pull the shower curtain all the way out.  At first I couldn't see anything but at last my prey was in sight...clinging to the very lower corner away from me.  I put the spray to good use and stepped back, waiting for it to run hysterically out.

Nothing.  Sprayed it again.  Still nothing. 

Finally got the small broom I keep in the outer area of the bathroom (the toilet and tub have a small room of their own) and brushed at it doggedly enough to knock it off and it began to run toward me, giving me the chance I'd been looking for and WHOMP!...I stomped it. 

I'm rather torn between thinking Don would be proud of me, and thinking he'd pointedly ask why the dickens I made HIM go after those bugs all these years if I'm capable of doing it myself?

Can't decide whether there won't be any disgusting bugs in the resurrected world, or if we'll suddenly think they're cute. 

This evening I was sitting out on the back porch and playing a game on my DS when Dmitry and Joe came out with Max, announcing they were giving him a bath. 

Joe also commented that Max doesn't like baths. 

Now, if *I* were giving a dog a bath who is known to not like them, I'd put him on the leash.  Not them, though.  Goodness, no. 

For the next twenty or so minutes I -  actually, the neighborhood  -  was treated to the regular, periodic roar of them alternately cajoling and threatening Max when the latter would run away.  Occasionally I'd call "Are you sure you don't want me to go get the leash?", but they either didn't hear me or ignored me, or a combination of the two. 

At one point Max got away and headed for the patchy grass area under the crepe myrtles and next to the driveway.  Apparently he rolled in it for Dmitry loudly chastised him, saying now he'd have to be bathed all over again.

A bit later Max bolted north on Owasso, with Joe in hot pursuit.  Fortunately our neighbor, Terry, was out for his evening constitutional with Pebbles (a miniature poodle, and one of Max's great friends) so that helped corral him.

But it sure seems to me the intelligent thing would be to tether a dog who has no desire to be sprayed with a hose and washed with dog shampoo.  That's me, though.  Doubtless were I their age (not to mention male) I'd look at it as they do. 

Okay, I realize tabbies tend to look alike but still....if I didn't know better I'd swear it was my Zeus:

They are driving up to Cleveland to visit her bro-in-law and his family for a few days, and are taking this opportunity to see sights along the way and back.
When I heard the itinerary I asked if I could go, too, as it would put me in close proximity to some friends. 

Haven't been out of town for ages, and going on a road trip?  With Elaine and my poppets?  And staying with friends along the way? 

Cool. 

Bless her heart, she sent Dmitry a package with a birthday card, some photos from the past, and his baby blanket. 

Here is the photo of him with his first grade class:

And this one is wonderful....a young Sveta with a baby Dmitry:

Look at that below-waist-length hair!  

She also sent the original of the photo of Galina.  Aren't there places I can take it to see if they can make a prettier one, erasing the break line, etc.?  It's on a thick cardboard board, you see.

The picture of the group is the family who lived next door to them there in Pervomyask.

On the 16th my Dmitry will be 19 years old!   Where does the time GO?