U-pick, I pick, we all pick pumpkins. We’ve been doing this ever since Darcy was a baby. We’re not thinking about how much longer this tradition will continue now that Darcy is a senior…

Following on from the “husbands in cars” memory: Rachel made a good point that our services were very demanding. If the “unsaved” husband actually went inside the building he could very easily have been targeted by the preacher. Maybe even named and called out. (It happened many times.) Ours was also a very emotional religion: men of that generation were commonly uncomfortable with such outward emotion, even if they inwardly believed.

We had a point midway in the service (I don’t know how commonly this was done in other churches) where the pastor, or someone called up by the pastor, would open the floor for prayer requests. They could be spoken out by anyone in the congregation and then we would kneel (by which I mean knees on the floor, elbows on the pews—not any of those fancy kneelers the “formal” churches had) and pray for a few minutes. Many of those women would—every service, and for years on end—request prayer for their “lost husbands” or, even more commonly, “lost children.”

A phenomenon I associate with country churches in my childhood: an irreligious husband waiting in the car while the devout wife is in church—either because she didn’t drive (this was fairly common in rural areas) or because the husband didn’t want her driving in the dark. Anyone else remember this?

I saw that today’s photo challenge word was “cycle” just as I settled in here at Taste of Belgium in Cincinnati for a Kwaremont, a beer designed for pro cycling fans. Named after one of cycling’s most famous hills, it has the same ABV as the hill’s average gradient.

Sitting on my back porch during lunch break, I drifted to sleep while thinking about the back to the land movement—and was suddenly awakened by an incredibly loud, low-flying airplane. Yeah, that feels about right.

Touring the Luddy School of Informatics, Computing, and Engineering today. Maybe I’ll get to meet the AI that will eventually take my job…

Price, our scrawny black cat, somehow got out of the house last Friday. (He’s done this before. He loves the outdoors and spends most of the summer laying in our screened-in back porch.) This morning he came strolling into the backyard and seems fine. I’d love to know what he’s been up to.

Darcy in today’s parade with the color guard and marching band.

Rest in peace, Murphy

It’s been a rough week here with the sudden decline of our fifteen year old dog Murphy. Last weekend he seemed to be not quite right. He laid down on the floor on Saturday afternoon and never stood up again. His front legs seemed to have stopped working. We took him into the vet on Monday morning and she said it was likely a neurological problem. If it’s temporary inflammation, he should be better in a few days. If he’s not better, then it’s likely permanent.

So we’ve been nursing him this week, waiting to see what will happen. He’s confused about why he has to potty into a diaper. He’s a good boy and he knows he isn’t supposed to potty in the house. He’s struggled to get up a couple of times but it’s just not working. It’s hard seeing him like this. Frankly, he doesn’t seem to be improving and it seems likely he will leave us on Monday. He’s been with us almost as long as Darcy has.