There’s a cricket inside my house — how do they get in? One of us is going to have to move out soon.
Summer is here — 94°F. today. Low humidity though; still only 15% at 9PM. Beautiful this evening.
Casa NewMexiKen has some lovely new solar lanterns in the front courtyard. I know some wiseacre will come along and tell me it takes more resources to produce an NiMh battery than if I just wired the lamps, but I like that they sit there all day soaking up the energy to provide a small, pretty light all night. (The area where I live has no street lights and people are discouraged from leaving porch lights on unless actually in use. We get to see the stars that way.)
My kids have about two-dozen first cousins, mostly on their mother’s side. When all four generations get together at a family reunion, as they did this weekend, it can get confusing for the little guys. Three-year-old Aidan I’m told spent much of the weekend calling his Uncle Ken “Uncle Jason” (and Uncle Jason wasn’t even able to be there). Finally this morning, Aidan thought he’d figured it out. “I know it’s Uncle Ken,” he told his mom. “Which room is Uncle Jason’s room so I can tell him I know he’s Uncle Ken?”
I know the sound a cricket makes can get to a person, but they are supposedly the purveyors of very good luck, at least according to Chinese custom.
I had to laugh at poor little Aidan’s confusion. Heck, he comes by it honestly. We have relatives who are adults who still can’t get some names right. I remember G’pa Cook calling all five of us “Ken, Martha, Debby, Lee, John…. Whoever you are!”