My parents are softies for animals, especially abandoned animals. Must be where I get it. They are constantly adopting new/used pets. Like when we moved to Portland we left our cats Belly and Ophelia with my parents. And then my sister found a kitten when she worked at the lumber mill. And then another cat started hanging around and they adopted him, too.

There are 3 dogs and 5 cats living here (soon to be 4 once my sister takes her cat home).

And now: Meet Carl.
Keith was the first to spot Carl, running for cover under the shed. Then when my mom and I were making pickles on Sunday she saw him running across the yard and I grabbed my camera. The poor kitty is so scared/shy/anti-social she runs and hides under the shed at the first sound of the door opening. But we put out some food and water for her (on the ground since she's too little to jump up to the table of food for the outside cats) and we've been trying to keep an eye on her. My parents both fake-protested at first: "We are NOT adopting another cat!" "Do NOT name that cat!" (knowing: name=attachment)

Keith suggested the name Carl. I was sold. Awesome name. Especially since it's a GIRL. Keith had not realized (almost) all calicos are female when he suggested Carl. Then he said maybe we should change it to Mabel. No! Mabel is an old woman name. Carl is better. Mom suggested Carla. No. CARL. Then he started creeping me out by describing the cat in his best Slingblade voice: "not no bigger than a squirrel."

Still, I like Carl. No one saw Carl today. Maybe she went on down the road. We'll see if she sticks around. Maybe one of the outside cats ran her off. I hope not.

So, yeah:I made pickles. We had to do something with the plethora of cucumbers coming out of our garden. We sliced 26? and ended up with about that many pints of bread and butter pickles. And they are DELICIOUS. We won't starve this winter after all. We may be getting canker sores from pickles, but we'll be eating. Tomorrow I'm taking a box of cucumbers to work and I'm going to beg and plead that someone/anyone take them home.

Keith got a new job: Fire Camp Cook. There's a Fire Camp set up down by the bridge going into town and he was hired on the spot. Working split shifts: 3 a.m.-10a.m., 5 p.m.-9 p.m. Hard work and long hours, but good money and plenty of opportunity for overtime, depending on how long the fire lasts. He might go with them when the go to the next fire, wherever that is. More money in the bank for Tiny House! He'll go back to his other handyman job when the fire season is over, I guess.

yesterday morning, very smokey

I hear the Whatchamacallit pulling up now! G'ngiht!