Saturday, July 26, 2008

What do you think out of country tuition would run, anyhow?

A little something to aspire to. [Thanks to Scarlett T. for the t-shirt! She loves it, because it has letters.]

Friday, July 25, 2008

Don't laugh. This fish was worth 20 bucks.

First fish caught won the pot. You can imagine how insufferable Kevin has been all week. Big fish this, giant trout that. Enough already.

I have named him Steve. We are having him stuffed and mounted and hanging him over the mantle.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Do I really need to type it all out?

Blah blah blah pasta 12.99 blah blah blah purple ice cream 3.25 blah blah blah having fun tormenting an obviously childless waiter and worrying about cleaning up later...priceless.

The house seems empty without 100 pounds of labrador.

Amy, I promise I will stop calling him "Bucket Head". But it's hard. His head is so buckety.

Scarlett and Alice are sad tonight, because their friend had to leave. My neighbors, a little weary of being bluff charged by all that yellow fur, may not be. He means no harm, he's just so full of lab love that it just can't be contained in a small city yard.

And I'll let Scarlett and Alice in on a little secret. I miss my friend too. Far be it from me to point out when something is a good idea, but Hocking County doesn't seem like a bad one.

We tried. Honestly. But we could NOT get them all to look at the camera at the same time.

This was the best we could do. The obvious hold out is my kid, but I like to think she realized the lighting wasn't right. A girl has to know her angles.

And I totally forgot the "Took the kids to the Amusement Park" pictures.

If I were the type, this is where I would do my "I was so right, and you were so wrong" dance. But I'm not. So I won't.

If pressed, however, I might point out that she loved every second, despite what some cynics might believe.

We all had fun, although when my sister tells you to "duck, and you won't get wet" please don't believe her. And get yourself tested for Coxsackie.

Not exactly playing by "ear".

This comes totally out of order in updates for the week, but I HAD to get this posted, and I think you'll understand why.

Same old excuse.

You know, the "I have 400 pictures on my camera that I need to upload, sort, and come up with witty captions for and I'm so overwhelmed I think I'll just go lay down with a diet coke" excuse.

Last week my sister and her brood arrived. So there's the Cousins Playing at Nana and Papa's House pictures and the "Got Dressed Up and Went to Dinner" pictures. Then, Amy arrived from Montana, via Hocking County and brought along 100 pounds of Bucket Headed Lab beauty, so I have "Little Girl, Little Dog and Big Dog" pictures.

Of course, I've just wasted 15 minutes typing this up, when I could have been doing all of that.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Perhaps the reason why I found the Farmer's Market so exhilarating, was because I haven't left the house in a week.

We've been battling childhood viruses around here. In that 2nd photo, I think you can see how I've captured the essence of her snotty nose.

Anyway, we've been under house arrest to try to halt the onslaught of germs. Going stir crazy over here, but this morning she woke up fever-free, so we're hoping the worst is over. Adventures aren't going to have themselves, right? And frankly, Alice is exhausted.

Hopefully we'll be re-entering the world soon. The lysol fumes are overwhelming.

I can't shop, and it's all Wendy's fault.

So, a couple of weeks ago I was standing around one of those awful airport bookstores, looking for something, anything, to read on the plane. We had already exhausted every gossip magazine [well, in English, but it's hard for me to care about Euro Celebrities. I'm sure they are interesting and all, but come on, if Perez doesn't care, neither to I.] and I had plowed through Armistead Maupin's "Michael Tolliver Lives", poolside.

I spotted a book that I knew my friend Wendy had recommended. "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." by Barbara Kingsolver. I freely admit I haven't read anything else of hers - but this was a non-fiction worked about the year her family opted to become "loca-tarians". They only ate food that they grew, or raised themselves, or that someone grew or raised locally. And humanely. And organically. Good reading.

I think everyone who knows me knows that the best way to kill a plant is to give it to me and ask me to care for it. So gardening, while appealing on some level [well, not so much the worm and bug level], is out. However, I took much of this book to heart, realizing that eating locally and organically can only do good things for my family, and our footprint on environment. We've been working toward a smaller impact in our own little ways, and not choosing to buy food that is completely out of season and that was shipped in from thousands of miles away goes hand in hand.

My original point being that I can no longer shop. I stood in the produce department the other day holding a red pepper that had a sticker on it that said "Canada" and I blinked. Couldn't do it. I'm ruined for produce consumerism.

But the produce I picked up at the Farmers Market yesterday spoke to me. Did you all know that potatoes have dirt on them? And lettuce doesn't grow in a bag either. I know. I was surprised too.

Friday, July 11, 2008

I think I've neglected to mention that I own meat.

Way back in February, B.C. [Before Cast] we went to an art opening that featured works by our friend John. I fell in love with several of his paintings, but kept bugging him about one in particular. One that I thought would look pretty good in our house.

It does.

Apparently, everyone and their brother knew my meat destiny - you finks could have shared - but I love my surprise birthday meat.

Thanks Honey - it's a wonderful thing to always smile upon entering a room.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Look, I can't cook AND take pictures.

But this pretty much tells the story.

And if you came to my house on Friday, and you didn't get enough to eat, I'm really, really sorry. Honestly. You people came hungry.

On the upside, I didn't have the guilt that comes with throwing away all the leftovers on day 3 when we can't look another plate of pasta salad in the face. Oh, and remember when we used to run out of beer at every party and have to take up a collection, and find a sober person* to make the run?

Ha ha. We're old. Anyone need some beer?

*Mom: I was always the sober person.

Here we are, still looking nothing alike.

You people told me that as she got older, she'd start looking more like me.

You lied.

Don't feel sorry for her. She gets it back in spades. And cookies.

I mean, if she didn't really want the attention, she'd just move, right?