What's in a name?

Sometimes, when I hear or see the name of a product or place, I can't help but think, "How in the world did they come up with that name?!" Like the other day, when I drove past a sign for "Acres of Land Winery." Really?

As I continued driving, I wondered if maybe the conversation behind the name went something like this . . . .

Vineyard Owner 1: So, I bought some land with a vineyard. Now I just need a name for my new winery.

Vineyard Owner Manager: Do you have any ideas on what you'd like to name it?

V1: I've heard some vineyards are named after the owner. So I'm thinking Bob Smith Winery.

VOM: No.

V1: Robert Smitherson Winery.

VOM: Still no.

V1: Roberto--

VOM: Just

V1: Smythe--

VOM: Stop

V1: Winery.

VOM: No.

V1: Okay then, what suggestions do you have for the name?

VOM: Well, some vineyards are named after their location . . . .

V1: Horse Country Winery. . . . Yes, I like it.

VOM: I'm pretty sure people will imagine stepping in piles of horse manure when they visit if you name it that. Which means they probably wouldn't visit.

V1:  How about Majestic Mountain Winery?

VOM: It's in a valley.

V1: Bummer. So, we need to figure out what sets our vineyard apart from all the rest. What makes this one special?

VOM: Well, we have lots of land . . .

V1:  Would you say we have many acres of land?

VOM: Well, yes.

V1: Would you say we have a plethora of acres of land?

VOM: Ignores V1.

V1:  So, we could call it Thousand Acres Winery.

VOM: Except that you only bought 200 acres of land.

V1:  Hmm . . . Hundred Acres Winery just doesn't have the same ring to it, though. Maybe we would call it Thousand Acres Winery, anyway. We're not necessarily saying, "We have a thousand acres of land,"--more that a thousand acres of land exists somewhere.

VOM: I'm pretty sure that would still be lying and we could be accused of false advertising.

V1:  Okay, fine, how about just Acres of Land Winery. That way, we're not saying how many acres of land we have, just that we have acres of land. And maybe everyone will think, "Oh, hey, they have acres of land -- they probably have thousands of acres of land." And then we can't be accused of false advertising since they're the ones saying we have all the land.

VOM: Sighs. Alright, fine. Acres of Land Winery it is. I'll have the papers drawn up and get the signs made tomorrow.

Getting ohhhganized

Mrs. Gordon was one of my high school science teachers. Her room had a distinct smell thanks to the bags of Euglena she kept in her windows. And I remember her sitting at her desk, shuffling papers, and saying in that unfamiliar accent of hers, "People, we have to get ohhhhganized." I'm not sure whether it was her or us that actually needed to get ohhhhganized, but she said it often enough that whenever I'm about to get ohhhhganized, I think of her and say it to myself.

Like the other day.

I was browsing a copy of Better Homes and Gardens magazine and stumbled across a feature on how to organize a linen closet. The collapsible storage units in a variety of sizes were just what I'd been wanting (but didn't know existed) for a certain closet in our house.

The closet in our bedroom has been a needle in my side for a long time. Seth uses the top shelf to store some of his clothes and it always looks like this:  

I'm no neat-freak, but over the years I've come to appreciate that there should be a place for everything and everything should be in its place (or close to it as often as possible -- mainly in the evenings, after we've cleaned up and the boys are in bed). And this is one of the last hold-outs to having a place for everything in our house.

So when I saw the storage units in the magazine, I knew they were my solution to taming the Messy Closet Beast and hopped online to order some immediately.

Of course, since I was really looking forward to their arrival, they were on backorder. And I had to wait several more days. Tragic.

They finally arrived earlier this week, and Kieran helped me open the box.

And I promptly took the box into the bedroom, put the units together, dumped all of Seth's clothes on the bed, and started ohhhhganizing them.

And then Seth came home and I let him finish things up.

And this (along with five boxes of give-away clothes) was the end result:

I am in ohhhhganizational heaven. And I told Mrs. Gordon's voice in my head to go away and come back some other day when I find something else to ohhhhganize.

How to survive chigger season

Our first encounter with chiggers came about a year after we were first married. We were living in a condo I'd purchased before we met and had gone into the woods at the house Seth had purchased before we met (and where we live today) to do some target practice. When we were finished, we needed to run to a friend's house for a party, so I took a quick shower (Seth didn't think he had time), we changed clothes, and then went to the party.

Later that same day . . .

Both of us started itching all up and down our legs, but Seth seemed to have more itchy spots than I did. And whatever we had gotten into -- we didn't know at the time -- was a hundred times worse than mosquito bites and poison ivy. Much more itchy, and the itch just didn't stop. For weeks. In fact, Seth was so desperate for relief that he tried a bath in water and bleach to make the itch go away. It didn't work. His legs ended up white, but the itch still remained.

After much Googling, we figured out we had been attacked by chiggers, and thus began my hate-affair with those nasty little bugs that inhabit our property.

The baby chiggers -- the larva, the stage that bites -- start appearing when the weather heats up in the summer, usually in June. And chigger season lasts through early September. So it's about this time every year that I start seeing this when I look about my kitchen window:

(Chigger not to scale. Images in window may appear

larger than they really are due to Stacia's overactive imagination.)

I've been trying to survive chigger season with the fewest bites possible for the past eight or so years, and since the boys came along, I've doubled my anti-chigger efforts because I hate the thought of my two little guys having to deal with chigger itch. These are my Rules for Surviving Chigger Season 101.

Rule Number One: Do not go outside. Ever. (This is more realistic when you have a child -- as I do -- who doesn't do well in the heat and doesn't like to spend long periods of time outside. On the other hand, this is not so realistic when you have a child -- as I do -- who loves being outside and would be outside all day if I let him. I'll let you figure out which child is which.)

In the event that following Rule Number One isn't possible, proceed to Rule Number Two.

Rule Number Two: If you must go outside, wear an anti-chigger outfit, like this one. (This is more realistic if you have a child -- as I do -- who likes wearing socks and wears them all the time. This is not so realistic if you have a child -- as I do -- who loves going outside in his "crocodiles" or "feet" (aka crocs and bare feet).)

In the event that following Rule Number Two isn't possible, proceed to Rule Number Three.

Rule Number Three: Hose down all exposed body parts and also all clothed parts with Evada-Bug (thanks to my cousin Sandy for that recommendation). Or sulfur. Your choice.

Rule Number Four: While outside, periodically perform the Chigger Dance, which consists of brushing your hands down each leg to remove any chiggers that were not deterred by the Evada-Bug barrier.

Rule Number Five: Never, ever think, "Oh, I can get another wear out of these clothes" about clothes that have been worn around chiggers. Chiggers cling to clothing and will stay on clothes for a day or two, waiting to pounce on the next warm body to inhabit them. Chigger clothes always go straight in the washer. And the body that inhabited the clothes goes straight in the shower/bath. And no one who has been outside gets into any bed without first going through this procedure.

Am I paranoid about chiggers? You might say that. But here's the thing: my rules work. The boys have never had any chigger bites (that I remember) and this season, both Seth and I have had just two or three (compared to the 15-20 bites we had that first time out). I call that success.

Of course, the rules have also made my entire extended family and friends paranoid about visiting us during the summer ("Are the chiggers out? Oh, well, maybe we'll visit later . . . ."). But that's a small price to pay for chigger-free Holler living.