“You are not going out with that boy unless his parents are driving and that's that. I'm not just Spitting Grits here, young lady!”

. . . My father, John Thomas Cravey, USAF, to me in 1956.

Miscellany

Joanna Leigh has been in costume most of the morning today. She put on her ballet-lessons digs and then put her nightgown on top of her head, hanging it down her back like the long flowing hair she yearns for.
She then says to me, “Mama Jo, look, I have long princess hair. Isn’t it beautiful? Do you like it?”
Well, it’s her Disney princesses nightgown, after all.
Then she announces that she will be doing this performance on the big stage at her recital. “Is that ok?” she asks.
Her ballet recital was a month ago, while I was cruising the Inside Passage. But in my defense, I had been to ALL the practices and dress rehearsals.
I turn my head in order to roll my eyes. Then I say, “Oh, certainly.” Then I have to watch the performance.
A four-year-old’s imagination: What a magical realm. I need to know more about this. Anyone have any ideas?
More Miscellany
At noon or thereabouts, I finally realized why Rocky Raccoon has been showing up at my door looking for food so early in the afternoon instead of sleeping in a tree like other normal nocturnal animals.

I first wrote about Rocky two years ago here.

Today was an eye-opener. Rocky is actually Rocketta, and she’s got babies somewhere nearby. She’s skinny and scruffy looking. So, as humans stay up all night with new babies, she’s having to stay up all day feeding herself in order to nurse her babies.
Sigh. Now I can’t trap and relocate Rocketta.
All the wry responses to my Facebook announcement of this discovery go something like this:
You had better relocate Rocketta AND her babies! What are you going to do when they ALL start knocking on your door?
And, You had better relocate all of them. Baby raccoons are cute.

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