Ring of Fire

I hope everyone had a nice, relaxing weekend. We did. It's been the first in quite some time. Other than one soccer game, we had no obligations and any plans were tentative. The babes and I went yard saling and to the ReStore Saturday morning, and while I was looking for old metal lawn chairs, I bought a great mirror to hang above the mantle. I also found this cool stove, but I was very strong and left it there (only because I had no way to get it home and no place to keep it while I figured out how to fix it up). We planned on going to the Pumpkin Festival , but after the game everyone was too hot and sweaty and just wanted to go home and chill. I thought it would take more than a little heat to keep them away from pumpkin fudge.

We finished the stone fire ring, a rather impulsive notion I had a few weeks ago, thinking that if we build it, fall will come. No such luck, the temp is still in the nineties here, but it was still a lot of fun and I have a feeling it will provide non-stop entertainment until the thermometer sinks to single digits.

Being a scavenger at heart, and cursing the cell-phone talkers while myself swerving and going perilously slow trying to scope out people's trash, found rock hunting just as entertaining as searching for the usual treasures. After a couple of days of scouring the river banks, it was while driving around looking for an estate sale, which I never did find(damn map quest), that I stumbled upon the Holy Grail of rock. Right in front of me, the hillside was cracked wide open and all the baby stones lay in a huge, but neat pile at the bottom. This was going to be too easy.

"How can I help you?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could help you? I need some rocks."

A big grin spread across the guy's face and I knew we were in business.
Fortunately, I had on pants and not the skirt that I had come so close to putting on that morning. Too bad I didn't go for the sneakers because strappy sandals don't make for easy navigation of a giant rock pile. By the time I left, the back end of my car was hanging low and I was covered in dust and dirt.

On the way home, I stopped to pick up some beer, forgetting that my once chocolate brown pants were covered in rock dust, so I thought all the smiles I was getting from the guys painting the building was because they thought I was cute.

Once inside, and faced with so many fall beer choices, I opted for some Pumpkin Ale instead of my usual Octoberfest. As I was leaving, I spied this. Wow, I found all those rocks and now I'm going to get the very last Hobgoblin Ale!

My luck ran out though because I dropped ol' hobgoblin in the parking lot, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Only then did I realize that those smiles I had been getting weren't because I was cute, but because I looked like I had just crawled out of a hole somewhere and now the laughter after this latest spectacle was because they apparently thought that I was drunk at 10:30 in the morning. Clinging to my last shred of dignity, I picked up the soggy paper bag full of glass and made my way to the trash can. The sweet lady from the store must have felt sorry for me, as she gave me a Scarecrow Ale to replace it.


Although I couldn't persuade the Mister to imbibe in the pumpkiny goodness, I wasn't about to let a little heat keep me from drinking those beers. Kicked back, watching the fire, the babes armed with long sticks and marshmallows, I couldn't feel a trace of fall. But I can pretend, dammit.