My Summer Vacation

or, how did it become August when I wasn't looking?

Yesterday I was in the garden readying for a murder of children between the ages of 3 and 8 to come over for cupcakes and mayhem. Preparation consisted of picking the suction cup-tipped arrows out of the azaleas and gathering them by the bow and the target, heaping the play kitchen equipment in the generally underutilized playhouse (“there are cobwebs,”…