I came home tonight to find that the brutal 90+ degree sun and no rain had turned my poor little vegetable garden into a wilted, pathetic mess. I watered like crazy, re-staked peppers and tomatoes (for future reference, Romas need cages - those suckers put out heavy little cannonball tomatoes like nothing I've ever seen), and realized I'm going to be eating a lot of tomatoes in the next few weeks. And giving them to my son. They're ripening like crazy and all at once. I hope there will be another wave after this one for later in the summer, I see new flowers forming. I'd hate to end my fresh tomato overdose by mid-June.

I'm just amazed that these neglected little plants are producing fruit like this. It's not like I'm a real gardener - I stick things in the ground and water them semi-regularly. Maybe weed when I have time, which is not often. Right now the kitchen prep is eating my after-work work time, so the yard is going to have to wait. You will never see lovely pictures of well-tended plants on this blog baby, it's a freakin' eyesore out there - but now I'm thinking I have found the right cosmic spot to grow tomatoes in benign neglect. It's a team project, me and the Screaming Frogs.

Cabinet delivery co-ordinator left a message on my voicemail - June 1, PM delivery. Perfect. I can take the cats to "Cat Camp" (aka their very, very nice vet's office - it's much fancier than this house) that morning. I dreaded the truck showing up as the vet's office was opening, and three frantic cats running around looking for hiding places in every inconvenient spot in the house while I'm trying to herd them into carriers. These are not brave cats. These are middle-aged, very set in their ways and totally chickenshit cats. Any upsetting of their routine is very traumatic. I hate the idea of leaving them at the vet's but managing them here is quite out of the question, with trucks and strangers and power tools and open doors, and they will have each other for company, and get checkups and ear cleaning and all those good things while at Cat Camp. The dog will be plopped in his old puppy crate when not in my control. He'll hate the indignity. I'm also going to ask the vet for the right dose of Benadryl to shut him the hell up calm him down if he gets too intensely involved in the proceedings. Murphy really is a Bossy Little Dog. Amazingly smart, very, very sweet, not nasty or ill-tempered, but he knows what he wants, and he wants to be part of everything, If he wants to watch, the wall between him and the action will just be an annoyance and he will complain about not seeing what's happening. All day. Non-stop. Yep, Benadryl dosage - put it on the to-do list. Nap time, Murphy.

I've already moved some yarn from the back room (which is now a kitchen storage area) into an under-bed box in the bedroom. I have a plan for projects that will get done while I'm sitting here helplessly, watching other people mess with my house. It's a weird way to spend a vacation but I think it will actually be pleasant, if only because it's so very different from my normal life. I want to finish the Trinity Stitch Shawl and make progress on the All Seasons Shawl, and read through the patterns I've accumulated and figure out what I want to do next. The week will fly by.

And at the end of the "vacation" I'm not done with the kitchen. I can't put the kitchen back together for at least two weeks after that, because the granite countertop installation is a separate process that takes two weeks AFTER the template. Welcome to Camp Bossy Dog. Bring paper plates.