My nephew is thirteen, and he's extraordinarily selfish, making me wake him up three times before he finally got up, and then insisting that he was hungry and that if I didn't stop somewhere and feed him, he would become "hangry." Now, I don't know what brilliant millennial marketing genius came up with the term "hangry," surely for use in advertisements, especially those during sports, but he (there is no way it was a woman...no way) deserves to get his junk shut in a filing cabinet.
We stopped by Del Taco (my favorite fast food place, and if he was going to force me to take him somewhere, it might as well be a restaurant I like), and it blew my mind that they're up and making tacos at eight in the morning. My nephew told me to order an absolute butt-load of food, and I told him, "No, you order. And your cap is five dollars."
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"It means, you can't go over five dollars. So do the math in your head to see what you can order without going over."
He was still able to get five items, which was more than I got, and he shoveled it down like he worked in an Amazon warehouse, and his fifteen minutes allotted for lunch also included the six minutes it took him to walk/run to the breakroom.
My nephew has an extraordinarily thick head of hair, always unruly, always longer than it's supposed to be, and I wonder how long that will last, since his father is as bald as the arch-enemy of Brandon Sanderson.
It was pretty much perfect weather: in the upper eighties in town, the lower eighties in the country, and the high sixties at the cabin. We drove with the windows down the whole way (although, in his opposite-of-defense, my nephew did throw a blanket over himself and go to sleep once the radio stations started to disappear), and it was enjoyable, even though I didn't get to finish listening to my audiobook (I'm on Disc 19 of 20), which is so overdue, I got a notice that they'll be charging me for a replacement next week.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In June: 2060
We stained and sealed the railing on the two decks, and the big pillars that hold the cabin up. There were so many of us that we got it done by early afternoon. My brother going up on the ladder again and taking his life in his hands. I don't know if he sees it that way, but he's one of those people who's always got to be doing something, or he gets restless, or feels like he's wasting away. There are far worse characteristics to have.
Right before we left, I went out on the deck, and looked up at the hummingbird nest, which is much bigger than it was on Thursday. And a moment later, a hummingbird with a bright red chest zoomed by and hovered in front of me, looking at me with seeming curiosity. My nephews ooohed and ahhed over that, because they'd never seen a hummingbird that close before.
And you know, I've never had one interact with me before like that. It was strange, but pretty cool.
After we were done, while my brother put away his equipment, the kids demanded to be allowed to go fishing. I hadn't brought my laptop, but I had brought a book (just started it on Thursday--it's the new Andy Weir book), so I volunteered to take them to the lake and watch them, then they could go home with their family once they were ready.
My nephews are old pros when it comes to fishing. You know how I blog every single day, even if I have nothing interesting to say? That's how they are with fishing (no exaggeration, I'd say they go fishing two or three times a week during the schoolyear, and five or more times a week in summer). Still, the three year ol--no, he's four now, turned four on Wednesday--old wanted to play with me instead of watch his brothers fish, so we rolled around on the grass by the bank of one of the ponds, and he found a bottle of hardened power bait, which looks and feels like Play-Doh, and he tormented me with it, putting it in my ears and down my shirt.
When his parents arrived to take them home, the three year old insisted he was riding home with me*, despite me not having a car seat or room for him. He threw a fit, which, as loud and obnoxious as it was, was for my benefit, so it didn't bother me nearly as much as if it had been over ice cream, or not being allowed to use someone's iPhone.
The thirteen year old and I drove home together, windows down, and it was a fine drive, with deer on the side of the road (instead of IN the road), and we got home in time for me to do my run (and take a shower) before the sun went down.
Push-ups Today: 186
Push-ups In June: 2303
I am SOOOO tired. I only have fourteen words written today.
I got up too early and went to bed too late last night (and started to write too late tonight) to be very effective.
I repeat a lot of the same bullcrap in this blog, I am aware, and after half a thousand days in a row of blogging, yeah, you're gonna get tons of redundant material. But this was yet another one of those days where I was so tired that writing was a fudgin' monumental effort, with me struggling for every single word, my head drooping, my mind wandering, and the crap I wrote being largely incoherent garbage such as "it looks like devon's going to do so, but a small, frizzy-haired girl in a Captain & Tenille t-shirt steps forward and says, "You sure?"" which shouldn't even count as writing . . . but I counted it anyway.
Words Today: 490
Words In June: 14,781
*Four year old, sorry.
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