“The Irascible Professor” is one of my favorite reads ‘most any time, but this week? Guess who’s there!!? Seriously, this website is awesome, and the commentary by its webmaster, Dr. Shapiro, is always enlightening.

My kids came down today to do their laundry and eat all our food visit their beloved parents. Hub and I had gone to Wendy’s for supper and then on to (okay, so I’m not perfect after all. . . .) WalMart. More about that later.

So, we came home to find the kids there waiting for us. While the clothes swished, I fed them and gave them each half of my Vegas winnings. Sigh. Easy come, easy go.

While we were visiting in the living room, Zappa suddenly stood up and asked me to cut his hair.

Now, my son’s hair has been, at times, as long as his waist, or nearly so, and when he said this tonight, his hair was a little below his shoulders. I am not the best of hair-cutters; I cut my own only because I can’t afford to pay someone else to do it. But I figured I could give him a trim, sure.

His hair is now approximately earlobe-length. Well, in places. It’s not exactly even, but hopefully he won’t inspect the back too closely.

Hair is not a big deal in this house. It’s not worth arguing about, or forbidding, or forcing, or anything else that would involve the hair of someone who is not me. There are other issues that are far more important than hair. You didn’t ask for my advice but here it is anyway: ignore the hair. Your kids will have some wild ideas, most of them just to (they hope) make you sing and dance and give them a show. Don’t do it. Hair is just not worth it. Let them shave their heads, or dye their hair pink. Laugh at it. But please, don’t ever FORBID it. Save the heavy stuff for heavier issues.

Heck, hair is so NOT a big deal here, that Hub even stopped growing any. And mine looks like Stevie Wonder took the pinking shears to it. We just don’t care.

Wendy’s? Never again. I don’t think Wendy’s has EVER gotten our order right the first time. Tonight, the cashier had a backache and just couldn’t concentrate on anything except moaning and complaining about how hard she had to work. They left out half of our order. They got what they did give us, wrong. And Moaning Myrtle at the register there was moving about as fast as a snail. Sorry, Wendy’s. As good as your food would be if you ever got our order right, we’ve given up on you.

Our WalMart is being replaced by a Super WalMart. Everything in the old WalMart is marked down to almost nothing. If you live in this area and need to buy school supplies or clothing for your children, get down there NOW. There’s not much left but what’s still there is really cheap right now.

I am not a big fan of WalMart, but here in this town there really isn’t anyplace else to buy most things. Well, there’s K-Mart, and I like K-Mart, but it doesn’t have much more merchandise on a regular basis, than WalMart has left right before their closing.

Hub goes back to school on Monday. I go back the NEXT Monday. Before you think “Oh, cool, Jane has a week of vacation left!” I will also tell you that I have an appointment with an oral surgeon on Monday. Looking at the clock, I guess that’s tomorrow.

For most people, this would be no big deal. For me, it kind of is.

I am a Coumadin patient. This means, that if any kind of procedure is done on me that might produce blood, there are things that must be done well in advance to prevent me from bleeding to death. These ‘things’ must begin several days before the actual slicing and dicing of me begins.

That is why I have to give myself a hypodermic of Lovenox twice a day. It’s no fun, and I now have severe bruising all around my middle. I will have to say, though, that I’ve never seen so sharp a needle before. I’m glad, too, because if that needle had met with any kind of ‘resistance’ at all, I would probably panic and either pull it out and throw it across the room or push it in all the way and have to pull it out with the pliers.

Every time I see the word “Lovenox” on the box of hypodermic needles, I giggle and start thinking that it really should be the name of something else.

It’s not serious; I’m just having a wisdom tooth pulled. But the oral surgeon wouldn’t touch me without the Lovenox. Heh. Don’t get me started.

Hub says that he will no longer grieve for Bambi’s mother; the deer have devoured all of his tomatoes and most of the vines that bore them. If any of you would like to come over and hunt during the season, just ask us first and we’ll probably say ‘yes.’ In fact, you can hunt here by just sitting on our deck and waiting for the herds to thunder past. We don’t hunt, but we’ll let you if you want.

Of course, if you don’t ask us first, and we see/hear you in our woods, we’ll call the cops. Be warned.

I thought the blackberries were long past, but we went to Appleacres yesterday and people were still picking! So we’ve got a big basket of fresh peaches, AND a big basket of blackberries.

Tomorrow? Cobblers and jam.

We’re cooking out again, too. Come on over.

We’re fun, funky people with weird hair. And I shoot up with Lovenox twice a day.