While The Grandson was with me yesterday, I asked him if his parents had bought his school supplies yet. He said they had not, so I donned my mask and did something I have not done in months: I went to Walmart - early, in an effort to miss crowds - with a supply list in hand. At the checkout counter, my shopping cart contained maybe $50 worth of stuff that was not on the supply list. The total bill? $197.00.
Jeeeeeez. Well over $100. For one kid. And that doesn't include clothes or shoes. (The shoe-shopping trip, including socks and shoe-funk-repellent, set me back another $100.)
Back in the Dark Ages, when I was in school, I don't recall school supplies being a budget buster. I don't even recall a supply list. We were expected to show up with a 3-ring notebook, a package of "filler paper," and a pencil. Those were the days, eh?
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When I went to the garden to pick squash this evening, I was so sure that it would be a mud pit that I wore my mud boots and took another pair of shoes to wear home. The ground looked relatively dry in most places. Crusty, even. I figured that it was a trap, that below the dry crust was a gushy ooze, but much to my surprise, I didn't sink anywhere. Barely left footprints.
There's some grass coming up in the rows where the new butterbeans and butterpeas are growing. For about 30 seconds, I considered getting out a hoe and chopping it down. But then . . . nah. It was really hot and muggy, and those wetter places I mentioned were in those rows. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow.
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