4-H

Where have I been? In a whirling vortex of pain known as 4-H. I bet you didn't know one of those H's was for h*ll. Ok, maybe it's not that bad. I don't even have to do the projects per se, it's just there's always something more to help with or buy that we forgot. This week we covered a trash can and bulletin board, I helped her learn to make french knots, I got matting and framed a painting, bought more potting soil and decorated her flower box so she could repot her flowers, proofread a book report and bought scrapbooking stuff to make the reading bulletin board, and a bunch of other things. Oh, and sat through her making four batches of yeast rolls, to get six perfect ones. During one of the hottest, humidest stretches of summer. Why did I get blessed with a perfectionist?

What else? The air could be cut with a knife, baseball finally creaked to an end, attended a chess tournament (rather like watching paint dry), and began rooting through everyone's belongings to organize for a rummage sale. In black and white that is even a more pathetic use of time than it seemed as it crawled by. This coming week is 4-H judging so that will fill many hours with scintillating copy for the ol' blog. On the bright side, we refused to allow them to do farm animals, meaning I do not have to live at the stinking (literally) hot fairgrounds all week.