Kyle came, and went, and except for a few branches down off the old oak tree and the tarp blowing off the woodpile, we were fine. The rain and the wind bothered Rosey, who refused to sleep in her own bed and cuddled in close. Soon there were four in the bed, and when the power went out around eleven, everyone gasped and huddled together.
Today the wind blew clean and chill and fall-ish - like the storm swept all traces of summer away and now we're ready for sweaters and hot drinks, romping in fallen leaves and the beginnings of can it really be? Halloween.
C (so far) wants to be Superman. As long as it isn't some incredibly time-consuming thing that I end up making, whatever's okay. (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, no one mention Transformers.)
Rosey hasn't made up her mind - it's either a Pony (as in My Little) or Barbie. Both ideas make my right eyelid twitch and make me think I'm going to get an old white sheet and a pair of scissors and R will be going as a ghost.
Or maybe we'll give her a satchel and send her off as the Ghost of The Buyout?