As usual, this was a busy weekend. The constant battle between man and weed continues with the weeds winning 'fronds' down. Despite the loss on that front I did manage to clean up the refuse that was drug into my yard (as it always is) when the nephews visit the in-laws. More poorly behaved children I have never seen.
The Japanese Barberry's on the west side of the house are dying I'm afraid. Even the one specimen that survived the winter now shows signs of decline. I can only guess that the somewhat shady side of the house where they reside has caused them to be vulnerable to fungus. I suppose it's time to move them out into the yard somewhere proper. The kitchen is officially marked for tile and ready for my attention. I'm afraid that nothing but the most strictly quotidian attention to the area will satisfy my wife on this point and rightly so. She's been waiting for the tile to be done for what seems like ages so nothing sort of a couple weeks of devoted attention will likely pacify her about certain other unrelated points that cause this to be less diurnal than she'd prefer.
Our eldest today bought a Harry Potter book (though she's forced to remain 3-books behind the current one due to issues with content) and it almost made me wonder if I should bother myself to read the stupid things and be done with it. I hate to break with my tradition and read something inane and modern but one does sometimes wonder what the plebeians are doing with their time. Well, that is except read People magazine and watch television.
My wife once again placed an order at Snapfish to have a few dozen pictures printed. Just like last time she ordered a couple of postcards for my parents. One for my father who hands them to my stepmother and one for my real mother who tears them up as quickly as she can and throws them away. (Or at least we assume so. Some of them get mailed back to us.)
Oh, one item of interest from the news. Apparently someone retyped the first few chapters from a Jane Austen novel and submitted them to several publishers. Along with the one who recognized it and sent back a witty response the rest were rejections stating simply that the novel wouldn't sell or that it was an 'original idea' but not something people would want to read. Anyway, here's the whole story. It just goes to show where modern fiction has gone.
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