My precious Belle and Zappa drove down last night, and this morning they whisked my precious houseguests off to Spring Mill State Park for a day in the waterfalls, creeks, caves, and woods. Not to even mention the working grist mill and the pioneer village. I hope they take tons of pictures; I like to have pictures of our week to show off to their parents so they can see some of what we’ve done.

Yesterday afternoon we went to see “Madagascar,” and then I took the kids to class with me. They answered almost as many questions as did my students. These are not your ordinary average kids, my friends. These are smart, well-behaved, interested, and interesting kids who love to learn things. Their week with me is one of the highlights of my life.

After class we went to Steak and Shake, and then on to the grocery store. We didn’t get home last night till after eleven, and even then we didn’t go straight to bed. When you’re on vacation, regular hours are unnecessary. Insulting, even.

And as I’ve told their parents several times, if I don’t return their children filthy, sleep-deprived, scratched and bruised from playing, and full of sugar for that long van-ride back to Michigan, then where’s the proof they’ve had fun?

Besides, a chocolate milk shake IS food. Milk is food. And french fries are potatoes, and potatoes are vegetables. So is ketchup.

Actually, now that the kids are older, they don’t stay filthy for very long. I guess it’s time to strike that one from the list of vacation do’s and don’t’s.

So anyway. The kids are at the park, and Hub has gone to an auction. That makes sense. We’ve spent weeks cleaning out the garage, so now we have all this space in there that needs to be filled up. AAAAAAGH.

I have the house to myself. Come on over. I have cookies, and I have lots of pop. And after the worst heat of the day has passed, I might bake a pie.

I started out counting the chocolate shakes but I finally gave up. That’s a really big number.

One of them was mine. It was delish.

Milk. It’s food.