Busy day! We started out herding, of course, with the crew (in theory) me and Owen. In the end we were both given jobs, which we were supposed to do while herding. Save us all from trying to do regular chores with Dad around! So I was stuck trying to pick up trash and supervise the herd simultaneously, and Owen wasn't even supposed to pretend that he was herding, so far as I could tell. Sigh. So we went in from herding, took a break, and then I mashed tomatoes for Mom, who is trying to stay ahead of the garden without much success. She hasn't drowned yet in tomato sauce, at any rate. Following such indoor kitchen-based activities (there was cabbage beet relish, too) we all had some comp time, except Doug, who had gone with Dad to get a clothes dryer from Terry-at-work. While I was at Della, and therefore in an ideal position for phone answering, there was a call from a man in Adams who had a washer he wanted Dad to fix. He was willing to deliver it, and would deliver it in fifteen minutes. Did we have anyone here to help unload? I cast a panicky look at Peter and said we did. When he came, in an aged pickup with "Mayflower Honey" on the doors, he was accompanied by a grandson perhaps my age. They made short work of the dryer, I took Mr. Brewster's name and number, and they left. All very efficient.

Next the boys and I had to go pick up the pasture. Gah. They mostly sat around in a tree while I was out there, but after I went inside they seem to have accomplished something on their own accounts, which is good. They got on the computer while I waited around for Mom, and then she and I practiced my driving. I spent some time driving around the neighborhood, then she had me practice steering in the parking lot by the ballpark. It was a bit of a relief to actually get out and practice; I keep worrying that I'm just going to waste my permit and never actually learn. But maybe not.

By this time it was late afternoon, and I felt I could get away with going upstairs and reading. Mom has a new author for me, a rather good sci-fi writer named Connie Willis. The book was a novella, titled Uncharted Territories, and Mom wanted me to pay attention to Willis' backstory technique, which is very smooth. The story is fun, and I'm considering pursuing the author--except I still haven't gotten through Loretta Chase, even the books Mom wants me to read. Ack. And of course there's Diana Wynne Jones, but I've given up on getting through her in anything approaching an organized manner and am going to grab her books where and when I can. This decision was heavily influenced by the fact that Gere is the only branch with anything approaching a decent collection, and it's still pretty sad. Also I have to compete with the kids for 'em. Sigh. I may not finish reading her before I'm hunting her down for my kids.

Dad and Doug got home, after four, only to unload appliances and take off again after more. Then, when they got home for good, they had to start fixing things. The focus was on Mr. Brewster's washer, which was speedily healed; I'm still not sure if it was fixed by the time he phoned, or if Dad finished up while talking. Anyway, Dad was on the phone for quite a while, in that time discovering: Mr. Brewster is descended from the Governor Brewster of Plymouth Colony; he was very impressed with our professionalism (coughcoughchokeouch); his grandson had us pegged for homeschoolers right off; and he'll trade us a beehive for the washer repair. Ack!

Dad and Doug have replaced Mom's no-longer-functioning dryer, and they tried to put in a new washing machine but the new one didn't work. It was determined more economical to put the old one back. But we have a new dryer.

Owen is down with the flu. The germ has been making the rounds, starting with Mom, then going to Doug. Doug's symptoms have been reduced to a persistent cough, and Mom's entirely better, but Owen's in pretty bad shape. At least nobody's throwing up.