The man of the house

Meet Oscar, our weather boy. Or, as I-who-cannot-hold-my-tongue tell guests, "Come to the kitchen and say hi to Oscar the stripping weather boy!"


How Oscar came to live with us is another story, but as his 75-page instruction manual says, he's the "here's how to dress!" guy that lives inside our mini weather station. In this photo, he's sporting a sleek ninja ensemble. (Notice in the bottom right corner that it hit 80 yesterday!)

When we first met Oscar in April, he was wearing an overcoat, scarf, and hat almost every day. Now he tends toward the ninja look, or a modified version I like to call his Grease outfit--black jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Occasionally he gets out a beach chair, though he still pulls out the umbrella many days.

I don't trust his predictions much (he's holding an umbrella tonight...maybe I just don't want to believe), but we're really all waiting for when the weather gets really hot, because then the manual promises us that Oscar will strip down to his beach wear: nothing but creepily small boy shorts. And then, I guess, we're supposed to do the same. Perhaps that will finally scare the neighbor's chickens to death.

We are making excellent use of the oven

Rhubarb pie, in honor of the landlords. We ate it with relish (figuratively) and ice cream (literally, and lots of it).

Best. Neighbors. Ever.

How cute is this? Answering a quick knock on the door, I spied our 3rd grade neighbor, Elise, sprinting across our lawn toward her house. I look down on the doorstep, and this lovely bouquet greets me, in its little handmade basket. I can't even get over it. It doesn't get much sweeter than this!