It’s my belief that it should not be a big deal if you have eggs in the house. Somehow, in my world, it does become a big deal.

We don’t have A/C at witchypoo HQ. This is a significant issue for the hot flash queen. We do have many fans, but oh, me nerves! I hate the heat.

Ass Burger Boy, on the other hand, is oblivious to heat. So much so that he routinely wears a leather jacket outside in the summer.

And?

He loves to bake cookies. In the summer. Using the oven. Sometimes, he forgets to turn the oven off afterwards.

One summer, I came home from gigging a festival in the Magdalene Islands in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. You could see your breath at night in the entertainment tent. I had to buy a special fleece-type jacket there, so as not to freeze.

Imagine my surprise to find that meanwhile, back at home, we were enjoying record high temperatures. It was 107F outside.

Inside? It was considerably hotter.

Seems my pride and joy had whupped up a batch of cookies in my absence.

And forgot to turn the oven off.

I dropped off my luggage, called for an air-conditioned cab, and made my way to an air-conditioned bar for the evening.

But first I broke and threw out all the eggs in the house.

Haven’t bought eggs since.

My cousin, one of the twins, picked me up yesterday to visit with Grammie, and it was a treat and a half.

Grammie’s eyes lit up like Christmas when she saw me, and there were a few tears of happiness all around.

She is not falling anymore since her meds have been adjusted. She had had a stroke, and the medicos had blasted her with blood pressure meds so much that her BP was dangerously low. As a result, she had many falls because she was so dizzy when she stood up.

The geniuses only figured this out recently, and now she has been getting out of bed and walking with a walker. Still a little shaky from so much bed rest, and being tied to a geriatric chair.

She’s still full of spirit though, and although she hates the hospital (can’t blame her) she likes to shock the nurses by saying she broke her dink. (she broke her pelvis in a fall)

I think she will be able to go back very soon to the lovely place she was before she was admitted to hospital. The people who run it are wonderful, and they all love her. That makes them A-OK in my books.

I have had very little internet access since I wrote this, and I came home from being kidnapped into a camping adventure just now.

I booted up my home computer and it had a hard disk boot failure message. Oh, the woedness!

Will keep y’all updated as soon as I’m able, but for now, I have sound files from the readings I did last weekend to upload to the server.

I got some pics of Skinny Bitch and Will-Yummy, but will not be able to upload them any time before Friday. Wait for the post. We all had fun!

Please be advised that I will not be around the blogosphere quite so much for the next two months. I should be able to update, but I fear my blog reading will suffer.

I have already unsubscribed to a lot of blogs. Not yours, of course, but I get all panicky when I see I have so many unread posts in my reader.

I’m packing today, and getting everything together for the psychic fair tour. I leave tomorrow. Skinny Bitch will have company for almost a week. That would be me. I hope I have more stories to tell from my stay there.

If you haven’t already done so, please subscribe to my feed. See the big pink shiny button on the far right sidebar? The irony of me unsubscribing to a number of blogs while asking you to subscribe to mine is not lost on me.

With any luck I will get to see my Grammie. She isn’t doing really well, and this may be the last time I get to see her. The twins got her hair, nails, and makeup done and took some glam shots of her.

It’s totally weird to see her with makeup. And I don’t think she ever wore nail polish in her life.

Wish me well in my travels!

Summer is my peak work time. I travel from venue to venue throughout my region, putting in long hours at psychic fairs, and not knowing what kind of internet access I will have. Oh, the pain.

I’m off on my travels next week, so there is lots of packing and prep to be done for the tour. Besides business cards and other supplies, I have to load the laptop with the correct software and create a new database for my clients and their sound files.

Luckily, Ass Burger Boy will be holding down the home front fort. It didn’t always used to be that way. I used to have to take him with me.

I remember the summer he was 14. I remember it well. The first venue of the summer was in Skinny Bitch’s city. He stayed in the hotel room and ordered room service, and lolled around the pool while I sweated to make expenses. Try feeding a teenage boy on room service, and you don’t have a large profit margin.

That wasn’t what chapped my chops. It just underlined his travelling demise.

I was struggling to get my gear from the car to the venue, which was up a steep flight of stairs. In the heat.

My boy? Threw a complete hissy fit. In the lobby of the hotel. Seems he was too heavy for light work, and too light for heavy work.

Mama was not amused.

The next venue was my own city, and I parked that chile with a vengeance. I left the neighbours with my itinerary, and strict instructions to His Majesty, and never took him with me again to work.

He doesn’t cross me often, but when he does? Doozy.

My Grampie was an islander. Islanders are insular, even xenophobic people. He worked very hard in tough times, and froze an eye while caught at sea in a storm.

My Grammie married him when she was 17. I don’t think she ever loved him. But that’s a story for another day.

He, being from an island in the Bay of Fundy, didn’t have overly developed social skills.

I, being a child, didn’t recognize how inappropriate he was by times.

He once assured me that he could blow smoke out his backside.

Grampie: “You don’t believe me?”

Witchypoo: “Grampie, I don’t think anybody can do that.”

Grampie: “Well, I can show you the nicotine stains on my drawers.”

Strange sense of humour, Grampie had.