Flotsam and Jetsam

We are hot in New England, to which most people would say about time. At the same time that summer starts taking hold heat wise, pools are closing as kids start back to college, school sales are underway and the harvest is beginning to pick up steam. On the deck, the hops are perfuming the air with resin and they're ready to pick. I'll do that as soon as it cools down a bit from the 95 degrees it hit earlier this afternoon. I love how the hops smell and the slightly sticky paper feel of them as I pluck them from the vines. A homebrew session is on the horizon, but only if it cools off. Until then it's the freezer for the hops.

I started my new job today. I love it already. I've been waiting for two years to love my workplace again, so I'm one happy camper. And I got roses to celebrate. Delivered to my office by the admin. She hasn't met Steve, but he's already a contender for best spouse of the year award. Lucky, lucky, lucky me.

We have more rats. Only on a temporary basis. I agreed to rat sit for a family I met at my last workplace. When I say rats, I refer to pets, not an infestation. I love rats. Steve does not. I imagine many more people are in the Steve camp than are in the rat lover camp which probably makes it really difficult to find ratcare when the family - in this case - goes out of town. I like them, but I really like their house. It's the penthouse suite of rat habitats. Our poor country rat is a little less uptown . Oh to be born with a silver spoon in one's mouth. . . or between ones claws. . .