Sunday, June 28, 2009

Out to the wood pile

Camp Reed was over at 6 p.m. Friday, but we had a half-hearted reunion Saturday. Hannah's birthday party included a 10-year-old girl sleepover component so Alex got to come over after the party for a sleepover here. That morphed into a trip to Victory Field for Jeff, Ali, Alex and me today.

It was good to have him here because he and Alison are great companions and they keep each other happy enough that it's almost like they're not even here.

On Saturday, our neighbor Jason rented a wood splitter and he, Jeff and another guy spent most of the day splitting the sweet gum tree for firewood. The pile didn't seem so big until they started dividing each piece into several others. I stopped counting at 4 pick-up truck loads. Jason had lusted after the tree as soon as he heard it was going down and offer to get the splitter if we'd share half the wood.

We saved $100 keeping the tree, so Jeff was thrilled to add this to the bargain.

The boys were all more than a little woody, if you catch my drift, from operating a massive piece of power tool technology. At one point, a piece of wood got stuck and it took two chainsaws and a sledge hammer to get the thing going again.

I think they spent about 5 hours in the yard. Alison and I got all of the usual Saturday chores done and out of the way before they left.

Today, while Alison and Alex played, Jeff and I spent all morning stacking the wood.

Now, I'm from Indiana and we didn't burn wood at my house. Well, we did burn the house down eventually, but that's another story and it was on purpose. We played with gas and matches as kids and anything we destroyed was accidental.

My point it, I know nothing about stacking wood properly. The boy from Maine takes it seriously. Which is to say he bossed me around all morning and had 18 different steps that ensured the wood got circulation so it will dry correctly, was stacked in the precise formation so it would be be tight, etc...

In the end, as he was muttering about this and that, I swear I heard him say his dad would be proud, so apparently we did it right.

We ended up with four garbage bags of yard waste between the stuff left over from the splitter and some other stuff that I'd needed to get rid of a while.

By the time we got the last bag to the curb, I wasn't sure I could life a glass of tea. I was lucky to stumble to my seat at the ballpark. We have great seats, just above the Indians dug-out on the third base side. (Jeff likes to give the team advice from time to time, and he wants to be sure they can hear him. While I'm sure they'd hear him if we were still in the parking garage, I guess it's best to be sure.)

The downside of our seats is that they're in the blazing sun. The seats were so hot when we first go there that you had to perch on the edge and inch back slowly or lose part of yourself. Kind of like the opposite of sticking your tongue to frozen metal, only with this, you could smell your flesh burning.

After a while, the kids and I went high, searching for shaded seats. And on an ice-cream run, we ran into Team Noel -- it's not a good weekend for us if we don't run into them somewhere around town. The Indians won in extra innings, so it was a good way to end the weekend -- if indeed the weekend had to end.

We've been home since about 5 and beyond dinner, I've done nothing much. I'm hoping I'll have the strength to type at work tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Camp Reed Day 4 Report

In just one day, Captain Reed took my title as Queen of the Camp. I'm fairly ticked about it.

He drove the kids over to the Newport Aquarium in Cincinnati.

In the words of Alison Reed, "It was wicked cool."

There's no competing with that.

Walking in to the place, they went through a long tunnel that went through huge aquariums. Sharks swam around them and at one point, a fish rammed right into a shark right in front of them. They claim there was a sea turtle with a head as big as our TV. They got to pet sharks and sea stars and horse shoe crabs.

If that's not enough, on the way home, they stopped at the famous Cow Palace in downtown Shelbyville.

Alison has been a devoted fan of Dairy Queen ice cream ever since her Aunt Margaret talked me into buying her first cone there when she could barely walk. The Cow Palace is her newest love.

"It's the best ice cream I ever had!" declared the strictly vanilla lover. "Well, I guess I'd have to wedge it in between Boogie Burger and Dairy Queen. Right in the middle.

Hannah had Death by Chocolate. Alex had cherry and the captain had some sort of chocolate concoction. Ali kept going on and on about how great her ice cream was so I double checked to be sure she'd had her standard vanilla.

Yes, she'd stuck with it, but next time, she said, "I'm going to have bubble gum."

The only downside was that Ali didn't listen very well to her father on the way home and kept laying on one or the other of her seat mates. He's docked her allowance $1.

When I reported the incident to my co-workers, Paul (father of 3 boys) said, "Man, I'm glad he's not MY dad..."

Captain Reed's reputation grows....

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Camp Reed Afternoon Report Day 3

I'm feeling pretty sad that my tour of duty at Camp Reed 2009 is over. Tomorrow, I go back to work and Captain Reed takes over.

The kids will love it. He's already set up a field for water gun fighting -- providing all kinds of crazy shelters for people to hide behind -- and he's thinking of taking them on a road trip.

Me? My nose will be firmly back to the grindstone. Heavy sigh.

Today we were stalled a bit as we waited for Village Plumbing to drop by and fix the clog in our basement drain and the leaks in our master bathroom. I'd missed the call that would have brought them early, and we were just coming onto Canterbury Park on a bike ride when the call came that they were 30 minutes out.

We opted for a quick spin and headed down the trail, with Alison scouting again. She and Hannah kept up a good pace and we made it to the edge of the State Fairgrounds before we headed back. We pulled up just as Tim the Plumber got to our house.

He was great, but the work took us through lunch. Right before it, our neighbor called, desperate for help with her 13.5-year-old dog who she thought was stroking out. I helped get Maddie (the dog) into Debbie's (the neighbor's) car and then added Chelsea to my camper list.

They were all happily watching a movie and munching on lunch when Debbie returned; harried but freshly convinced to prolong the dog's life. I'm not a dog hater, but Maddie is blind, deaf and prone to tremors. Debbie is a single divorcee, recently laid-off and caring for a special needs child.

I'm not sure I would have agreed to give Maddie another day. Another of Debbie's charges, Pearl the rabbit, hopped off into Bunny Neverland last week after 13 years. Frankly, I think the animal signals are clear and that Debbie needs a break.

After Tim had fixed all that ailed our pipes and faucets and I was able to tear the kids away from our Charlie Brown Special collection, we got back on the bikes and rode to Broad Ripple Park to try out the pool. (It wasn't up to the standards of the Jordan YMCA pool, according to the little otters.)

While they were happy to cool off, I'd just had my hair done. I could only dip my toes for fear of having my friend Julie from Ado disown me. She'd warned me away from chlorine when I left her Tuesday evening. She's not only a way better hair stylist than I deserve, she's a new mom and full of hormones. She probably would brand me with a curling iron if I dragged myself in there to get my freshly un-grayeed hair repaired.

Debbie's bad luck with animals seemed to follow us as we biked to the park pool.

"Aw! That poor chipmunk," Ali called, alerting everyone to the road kill. "Hey Hannah, my mom ran over a squirrel once."

"Mrs. Reed! How could you?!"

I launched into my speech about how I was certain the squirrel had committed suicide and used me horribly in its dastardly plot of self-destruction.

"I don't believe that for a minute," Hannah said.

"Yeah, Mom. You KILLED it," my offspring reminded me.

I battled them for a while before I reminded them that I could have let the squirrel live but taken evasive action such that Alison and I could have died in a firey crash. Alex, who loves me most when I'm pedalling him around on the tandem, jumped to my defense.

"I think it could have committed suicide," he said. "It shouldn't have run out in the road when a big car was coming. And besides, there are millions of squirrels. There aren't millions of Mrs. Reeds or Alisons."

I love that boy. He's so smart.

They played a little at the park before we came back home into the lovely air-conditioned house where they gorged on frozen yogurt and ice water before their parents came to whisk them away. (The basement drain problem was causing the a/c run-off to back up and pool on the floor but thanks to Tim, we're basking in the cool again.)

I may have to get sick Friday afternoon and have to go home early...

Camp Reed

Excerpts from Camp Reed:

Voices drifting up from the basement family room where Alison and Alex are arguing over what to name a new virtual pet on her Littlest Pet Shop game.

"Alex! I don't want to name him Alex."

"But I want to."

"No, Alex, He's a Boston Terrier. I want to name him Boston."

"Please, Ali? I want to name him Alex."

Editor's note: many of our virtual pets carry names of Alison's friends. Her two live fish are named Alison and Grace. Jenna (an earlier fish) sadly, bit it and Ali thought it was too sad to name the replacement fish after Jenna again.

"No. I want to name him Boston."

Alex apparently was at the controls and was quickly filling in the name: A-L...

"Alex, I WILL unplug this computer!"

"Awwwwww. OK."


"Hey, Alex, I got in Big Trouble because of that stack of papers you knocked off the table."



"What happened?

"Well my dad yelled at me for like 40 minutes."

"Really? Wow. At least he didn't ground you."

"Yeah. Usually, he grounds me for like three days of screen time and makes me write sentences

"Oh my gosh. Really??"

"Well. That's for when I get a conduct cut. That's why I try not to get conduct cuts..."


In the car, Hannah was reading from Captain Underpants to Alex and Ali. She's probably gotten through three pages before they got antsy.

"Hey, Alex. Want to see the flip-o-rama in this book?"


Flip, flip. Giggle. Giggle.

"Hey guys. I'm reading here," reminds Hannah.

Flip, flip. Giggle. Giggle.

Hannah and I agreed that her strategic error was in allowing them options.


They played on the woodpile for part of the afternoon, turning it into a wooded castle. They took turns playing King, Queen and Princess and jumping all around and from it.

At one point, Hannah comes running around the corner to jump for safety.

"I made it to the pastle. I mean the calace!" she shouted.

After that, they became pings, krincesses and peens.


We spent a few hours at the Indianapolis Childrens Museum and I camped outside each exhibit and let them have the run of the place. We've been there dozens of times and I'm pretty sure I've explored every corner of the dinosphere at least six times. It's great, but I opted to read a book while they got lost in time.

The entry way is different since we'd last been, and it wasn't well received. Used to, you walked into a huge, sunny room dominated by the famous water clock. Now, you enter into a still sunny but more commercial looking area where you buy tickets and can patronize the museum store.

"I don't like this," Alex said.

"Yeah. Me neither," said Alison.

I asked what it was they didn't like.

"It looks like it's for adults now," they agreed.

Once inside, they were OK, but I had to agree with them.


We started out the day attending a rally at the Statehouse where our legislators are fighting over the state budget. The rally was to encourage them to spend more on schools and less on other stuff.

Karin and Dale met us there. Hannah, at 10, was more inclined to at least pretend to listen than were Ali and Alex who were more focused on lunch.

It was strange to be there but not awful. It's good to see people involved in the democratic process and it's a great thing to expose kids to.

And we got to have lunch downtown...

Tuesday, June 23, 2009


The other day, we were all three riding our own bikes and Jeff was remarking to Alison how great it was that we could all motor on our own.

We've nearly worn out the detachable tandem we bought about 4 years ago. It's taken us down streets, along the canal and Monon Trail, downtown, up to Carmel, to school and to the movies. She's loved it, and it's always attracted a few comments.

Once I spent part of the afternoon giving her school friends rides around the parking lot when I went to pick her up.

Getting her on her own bike may have been delayed a little bit because she liked both the independence of nearly riding on her own but the ability to lay back a little and coast if she wanted. Plus, she was bothered with little or none of the balance or steering.

She's been a demon her birthday bike now for the past several weeks.

We were out on an evening ride the other day. She was "scout," which meant she got to decide where we went but she was also responsible for letting us know if intersections were clear to go through.

It's helping with her braking ability -- a bit -- but she likes it mostly because she gets to be in charge. (I'm not bossy; I'm a leader.)

So Jeff and I were hanging back and he was waxing poetic about what a great thing it was to do this as a family; to see her take off and be so independent. I only grudgingly accept that she's growing up. It's not my favorite thing, in all honesty. I revel in her spirit but I hate to think of the day she moves out.

Jeff shifted from entertaining me to address his charge.

"Alison, do you realize what it means that you can ride your very own bike?" he asked. "You can go anywhere you want to anytime you want to!"

Never missing a rotation in her pedaling, she shouted back with a huge grin: "Just like a book!" she said.

I love that girl.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Camp Reed Afternoon Report

The tree cutters were amazing. In and out in less than 3 hours, they took down the sweet gum, trimmed the oak and took out an unsightly bush/tree out back.

I almost didn't recognize the yard.

The kids got bored after the first few cuts and spent most of the time in the back yard with the hose and Jeff's new Father's Day water guns. It was only after they were down to cutting what had the look of an uncarved totem pole that they thought it was kind of interesting. And then, they watched from the cool inside as the tree crew sweated in the muggy air. Wimps.

Complete Tree Care is my new favorite business. They come back on Friday to drill out the stumps. If they do then what they did today, they're going to get one sweet report on Angie's List...

Before the tree crew came, the four of us took a bike ride to Target. I needed a new seat for my bike and I've decided that Camp Reed has to have at least one component of physical exercise.

The girls were on their own bikes. Alex was on the tandem with me. We were zooming along when Ali missed a turn and we had to do a little cross-country to get over to the store.

"Geeze Mom! What are you doing?"

"We've got to get over there. It's just a little grass. You're good. Come on," I say as Alex and I push through the somewhat muddy field.

The girls got off their bikes and were pushing them across the grass. The plan was to cross an office parking lot, then the Lowe's lot, and over to Target.

"Follow me and stay close. Watch for traffic," I call, slowing down and circling to be sure they were going to make it.

"Alex, you are on the bike of doom!" Hannah calls out.

"Yeah, Alex, you're gonna die with that mad woman!" calls Ali.

I stop short. I look back. They're on their bikes. Sure, they're slow, but they're behind me. There are parked cars, but few are moving. I'm not sure what the problem is.

"Nice knowing you Alex," calls one.

"I don't believe you!" calls my defender. "I am NOT going to die."

"You know, Alex, she's a bad driver in the car AND on a bike," calls Ali.

"Well I think she's doing a good job," he says, pedaling like a champ.

I announce the winner of the My-Favorite-Camper award. I think he smiled. It's hard to see from the front seat.

Regardless, the girls do not relent. It wasn't even my fault we had to go off road. Alison missed the turn. In the end, we got safely across all the lots, to the store, to Taco Bell and back without a problem.

Camp Reed Day One was fun. I may never go back to work.

Camp Reed Morning Report

Day One of Camp Reed came early. I was up at 7, sweating from a really strange dream that involved vampires, the Indianapolis Star and a desperate search for a working pay phone.

I had intended to spend the morning in my neighbor's yard with three kids watching our sweet gum tree be felled. But I woke up to damp ground and a grim sky. For a moment, I considered whether Mother Nature was issuing one last warning about the planned destruction.

I actually thought about calling to cancel the tree guys. Instead, I decided I'd read too much trashy fiction and made myself some coffee.

The rain has forced Camp Reed in doors so far but it's been absolutely no problems for the campers who scampered downstairs seconds after they arrived.

They've got a laptop, a Mac, the television, movies and the Wii to keep them occupied. Perfect for the rain out.

The tree cutters are due around 2 p.m., so I think we'll have a short field trip but be back here in time to watch the thing come down.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


Alex, Ali and Jeff were supposed to go to the Indians game tonight, but it's been raining all day, so it's turning into a sleepover. Alex brought his baseball glove, hoping for a foul ball, but it is not meant to be.

They're disappointed but making do. right now, they're playing golf on the back porch. They say it's golf. It sounds like baseball. I've closed the kitchen door to save my out-in-the-open Fiesta ware. One particular move will win you 100 million points.

"Hey you big cheater, that one counted," I just heard.

"No it didn't.

"Yeah. Huh."

"Well, OK. Maybe that one was 900 points."


Other excerpts:

Alison was on her way to her room. Alex said he was coming with.

"If you must," she said, sighing.


Dinner time. Jeff fixed spaghetti at their request but we were out of fresh vegetables other than salad. He went down to give them a choice of frozen peas or salad.

"We'll have salad please!" they said.

They're 7.5 and 8. And they both chose and ate all their salad. Crazy.


It's getting darker. A lightning bug found his way inside. I could totally hear them.

"Hey cool."

"Let's get him in your room."


They scuttle behind me.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Nothing!" they sing in unison.


It's still raining and they've decided to out outside to find more lightning bugs. It's summer. What's a little rain? But I'm going to go free their prisoner while they're not watching...

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Making up

Alison has never been greatly interested in dolls -- Barbies or otherwise -- but does have an on-again, off-again fascination with make-up.

This weekend, it was on-again. Most of her make-up comes from her Aunt Nancy, who's taken up the Avon, Calling! trade from my mom. Between Nancy and various birthday parties, she has quite a cosmetic arsenal.

She has a bit of a heavy hand with the blush and she hasn't quite perfected her brush technique with the nail polish but it's fun to see her so focused.

"Mom, can I be the one to do your manicures from now on?" she asked.

"You mean, like instead of going to BR Nails?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, serious as she could be.

"OK," I say, thinking, "Hmmmm: what am I going to do come Monday.?"

She's since confiscated all of my nail polish and put it in her little Fisher Price make-up desk. She's pretty serious about it.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Know your audience

Alison was maybe 2-years-old when she was running in socks on my hardwood living room floor and her feet slipped out from under her. “Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, with perfect inflection.

That was the last day I used that particular oath in her presence, and I haven’t heard it pass her lips sense. It was a startling reminder that she really does listen even when we think she doesn’t.

While we’re far from perfect people or parents, it’s safe to say that both Jeff have at least tried to improve our behavior. Most of it is to set a good example. Some of it is to avoid future embarrassment of being outed by the offspring.

Fast-forward to today. We took Alison with us to the Indy Gay Pride event. We had a purpose, mostly to hook up with my Bunconian Jeph Slaughter and his significant other, Norm. Jeph was curious about why I was planning to bring Alison along, and I’m sure he wasn’t alone.

But we have many dear gay friends and we support gay rights. There’s not much (to many of my friends and family’s chagrin) that we shield Ali from. It’s important to us that she shares our belief in the importance of being not just tolerant, but supportive, of gay rights; that we accept people for who they are; and that no one’s value system is more “right” than another’s. Except racists and haters – they’re just flat wrong. Heck: we’re even starting to think that some Republicans aren’t all bad.

So we’re walking around and seeing all kinds of outrageous outfits and hair styles. Alison, who has long believed that all people should wear shirts when they’re in public, remarked after a while that she was sure she’s soon spy someone walking around naked. We didn’t see that, but we did see a man in just sneakers and jockey shorts.

“Told you!” she chortled.

We ran into Jeph and Norm and their friends. They were on their way out, but we had a fun little visit. Ali had collected two bead necklaces, and they all decided she needed a rainbow effect. She departed with about 10 different-colored necklaces, so she was really happy.

Jeff decided she need a longer civil rights lesson and was going on and on about it. Alison was as attentive as an 8-year-old could be. She’d noticed some fun little yard art items that were all rainbow themed, so he talked about how the rainbow is a symbol of how it talks all kinds of colors to make a rainbow, just like it takes all kinds of people to make the world.

It was kind of sweet watching him in his Dad moment, imparting such wisdom. I may write long, but I tend to be less verbose in my life lesson teaching and I knew he needed to wrap it up. But like an evangelist who just can’t let the summer revival crowd go gently into the night, he went too long.

“And that’s why we have that big rainbow hot-air balloon in our front yard,” he said, ending with a flourish.

“Uh, didn’t Aunt Margaret give me that?” asked Alison.

Had the balloon truly been a symbol of our gay rights support, it would have been a great closing. But Jeff failed to remember the lesson still burning a hole in my soul: not much gets by Alison Renee Reed.


Thursday, June 11, 2009

Making a splash!

From the time she could walk, Alison has loved mud puddles. She's jumped in them since she first discovered the fun of splashing.

Lately, she's pushed it up a notch. It's been rainy here and every night this week, we've gone out on the bikes. Since the first puddle formed, she's thrown all her fears about falling off her fancy, new 2-wheeler and just flown through the water.

It rained again tonight and I was pretty sure the bike would have to stay parked. Jeff had planned to play softball, but even his crazy gang of crazy players called it off about 7:30. At 8:30, it finally seemed clear and Ali looked up from the lap top to ask if we could go out.

I initially demurred. It's too close to bedtime, etc... but then again, she's only going to actually want me to go with her on the bike for a few more years. (if I'm lucky.) So we collected Jeff and went out for a little while.

She zoomed through more mud than I had really expected and she even had a wipe-out trying to turn around. She was more scare than hurt and by the time she'd found another long puddle, she'd forgotten how much her hands had been hurt in the fall.

It was dark when we got back, and she missed her bed time by quite a lot. But it was worth it.

Here's how she ended up. I used the flash on my camera, which makes it a little fuzzy and lighter than it actually was.

We might be bad parents, and she'll likely never wear those clothes again, but it was fun. And it's summer, for goodness sake!

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Timmm-berr! (Maybe)

My father would not be pleased with our plan to cut down a perfectly healthy tree in our front yard. It's old, it's tall and straight and it does exactly what Mother Nature intended it to do.

I can just see him shaking his head and reminding me, "Now there's not one thing wrong with that tree."

I've already had the argument with him in my head. I always come out the loser in the debate, but hear me out. Among my complaints:
  • It's a favorite perch of birds who consider my car their personal latrine.
  • Coupled with a mighty oak just a few yards away, its canopy prevents any sun-loving plants from thriving;
  • It's harbored at least some of the squirrels who deflower my tulips every spring.
  • Worst of all, it produces gazillions of sticky balls every year.
Whoever named the Sweet Gum tree must have had one heckuva bad palate. There's nothing sweet about it. If you've ever stepped on one of the sticky balls in your bare feet, you know what I mean. And if you've ever raked up the yard, filling three giant garbage bags with the things only to be inundated with another crop the next week, you have felt my pain.

They're all over our neighborhood, these Sweet Gum trees. I suspect they were part of the woods when the subdivision was platted because no one in his or her right mind would actually plant the things where people plan to live. Why they didn't cut them all down is beyond me.

All I know is that we looked at our house in the winter and I didn't notice the sticky balls or we may have ended up with a different address.

I discovered that the trees can stopped from bearing their terrible fruit, but you have to get to them when they're young. This one has to be more than 60 years old.

We'll have the oak tree and a magnolia still in the front yard along with some scrubby bushes that were also in place when we took occupancy. The bushes may be my next victims, but it's taken me 11 years and a promise to stop pushing (at least this summer) to install a deck or patio to get Jeff to agree to the demise of the sweet gum.

So come Monday, June 22, the nice men from Complete Tree Care are coming to take the tree away. I'm trying to come up with a way to put some of the wood to good use just so I can stop hearing the sound of dad's voice.

On the other hand, it's kind of nice to hear it again.

Oops I let her do it again

Alison Reed is going to be successful in her adult life. The only question is which side of the law she'll be on. I swear she has the soul of a con artist.

We haven't played Monopoly in a a long time, but we cracked it out this morning -- the Littlest Pet Shop-themed game board, of course. We roused Jeff out of bed and Alison picked out our game pieces. She was a pink LPS octopus. I was an LPS zebra. Jeff was the LPS husky.

It was all going my way. I had two monopolies on the rich side of town, two vehicles (LPS version of railroads)and plenty of cash. Alison had a lot of property but not much cash and she had the bad luck to land on one of my improved properties. She was $50 short but wasn't protesting, just resigned to the facts of the game.

"It's OK, honey. You can owe me," says I, falling once again into her trap.

Not 20 minutes later, she had my Biggest Littles Pet Shop AND my Round and Round Pet Town (aka Boardwalk and Park Place) and I was reduced to mortgaging the rest of my holdings.

"I love this game," she said.

I'm going to blame my lapse in judgment in having been away from the game for so long.

Ultimately though, Jeff somehow managed to eke out a win. He'd taken a bunch of my properties when I left the game and she was jailed a few times when he landed on her big money spots.

It was actually a good way to start easing out of the weekend. We spent some time at the Monon Art Fair yesterday where we got a great new piece of art for the yard and I collected the start of a fairly impressive sunburn.

I added to it by sitting at Broadway Betty's pool sipping too many gin-and-tonics and hanging out with some of the coolest women in the city. It's the infamous "Estro-fest" gathering and one of the events that makes summer fun.

Margaret Burlingame and I have a tradition of bringing a special gift to the bash and this year it was candy wrapped in papers that carried the Estrofest logo, different themes and great sayings like, "A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally."

Margaret had a training that she couldn't skip and had to miss the party. Note to Margaret: it was another happily received offering. Thanks for doing all the work... :)

My good friend Tina Noel chaufferred me to the party, which turned out to be great because not only was my glass bigger than hers, it seemed to never be empty.
I think I must owe her something good...

All in all, the weekend has offered something to everyone at Chez Reed. We went to the Vic for an Indians game on Friday; the neighborhood art fair which gets better every year and a poolside party on Saturday; and blessedly nothing planned for today.

I'm not sure I'm ready to face the work week. I'm definitely going to need this day to recover, although I'm guessing we have either the bikes or Jordan Y pool this afternoon. I've got to hunt down the sun block.