Counting (again)

72. Packing peanuts. The starchy kind that dissolve in water. The kind you can lick and stick together to build all sorts of interesting things.



73. Crusty noses and milk mustache remnants. 'Cause this too shall pass.

It's been awhile since I counted these simple gift-type-things... I was all ready to post this last week. And then I accidentally broke my photo editing software. And then I accidentally got sick.

74. How much better a 99 degree fever feels than a 102 degree fever.

75. A husband that's totally my computer guy.

76. Shadow-masked pretend grumpy faces. Awesome, right!?


77. Shoving packing peanuts up your shirt.

78. Belly buttons.



79. Gravity. It never fails us. Except when we don't want certain things to fall down. Ahem. Packing peanuts? Ummm... yeah. That's exactly what I meant.

Joining my dear friend Brooke in looking for the "Simple Moments".

Favorites of 2012

You know those two roads that diverged in a yellow wood?

It's true.

The one less traveled by has made all the difference.



The Battle

Featured in the "Why it Works" section of the January 2013 issue of CLICK magazine.


Captive

Yes, I am that Mom that rescues a turtle off the highway and tosses it in my son's lap while he squeals like a little girl.


Waiting

My beautiful baby sister and her belly!


Left Behind: First Day of School

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog and facebook wall


Enough Helpers?



Curiosity



What Remains

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog
Best of Show at our local County Fair


Summer Bliss



Childhood Memory



Epic Quest



Solstice

Smack

So this new kitty of ours is going to be a big one. I swear she's already the size of a small raccoon. My oldest boy told me I'm not allowed to call her fat. Because that's mean. Ms. Paws is officially "round". But being round doesn't slow her down any, because, she's just... big all the way around.

And if you challenge her? She will bring it.

The smack-down starts innocently enough:


Soon enough you realize that her roundness only adds more power to her punch:


(or maybe it's the extra thumbs?)


Game over.

Entirely worth it

I dread trips to MalWart. But this, well, it made the whole florescent light, sensory overload, having to interact with people, on the brink of disaster three year old, wobbly cart, how did I just spend $145, so help me God I am never coming here again event entirely worth it.

And it's a whole lot bigger than it looks, okay?



This puddle was directly behind my car. It was lovely trying to step around it while attempting to load up my trunk with the whatever that I had bought. The whatever was heavy. My car was muddy. And the space that was left between this... formerly-alive puddle... and my car, and the cart with my kid, was interesting to say the least. Meanwhile some old guy was washing the windshield of the car next to us, and then he way-too-cheerfully said, "Gotta take care of the boss!" as he jumped in a different car and drove away. But that's beside my point.

I don't know what my point is.

What type of bird, exactly, has three legs and one beak?

Does MalWart clean their parking lot, like, ever?

And why did I never share this creation from last year? It's my favorite.


credit to my sarcastic sister for the de-motivational poster concept and the caption

Problem solving

"Give me a five here on my foot", said the kid in the tree...






Oh, also? Those boys took apart a washing machine and a dryer, almost completely by themselves. And then? They partly reassembled them.


{yes one is in the dryer}

Garden of Summer-past

Goodbye garden. Hello garden-blogging fail.



I'm equal parts thrilled and cringing that October is almost here.

This is my very favorite time of year. Running through crunchy leaves, sipping spiced cider, listening to my chickens sing as they scratch up the last of Summer's bugs, tidying up the garden in perfect hazy afternoon light, hearing combines chewing through the fields surrounding us, constantly sampling bits of whatever is going on or coming off our overworked dehydrator, tripping over the produce that spills out of our entryway and into our home... The whole season is one great big sensory experience, and I love it.

Cringing because, well, these glorious weeks are so fleeting.

And here it is, yes, almost October.


{not snow - cattail seeds}

And I have failed to blog about... anything and everything. But the garden? I barely mentioned it three times. That makes me cringe too. Seedlings in eggshells, harvesting peas, and voluptuous eggplants. That was it.

I did the writing in my head.

Here are handful of abbreviated posts that never made it to press:

1. I neglected far too much of our garden the previous year. The perfect solution to that is obviously to add another fifty square feet and five NDSU home garden variety trials. The observing, learning, comparing, tasting, and ownership the kids had of their trials was a beautiful thing. I wholeheartedly recommend this program to my North Dakota friends!

2. Our pole bean tee-pee was magnificent. I've never grown pole beans before. I underestimated them. It was shocking how the tee-pee went from bare to covered to unrecognizable (in a matter of fourteen days) as the beans went beyond crazy. The cats loved that thing, far too much. They even left offerings exactly in the middle of it. So weird.





3. The younger boy planted sixteen watermelon plants. See variety trials above. See oppressed overworked dehydrator above.



4. Apples! Finally these trees produced enough to justify using the word harvest. And harvest we did. We waited four and a half years for this.


{maybe that one had a bug?}

5. I cannot imagine fall without winter squash. A whole long shelf full. Every one of my seeds rotted in the ground this Spring, and I was irrationally upset about it. Yeah, I know I can get winter squash at the grocery store or the Farmer's Market. It just isn't the same. Then I found a volunteer something among the sunflowers that looked suspiciously gourd-like. Sweet happy day when I realized it was, in fact, winter squash. God does answer insignificant little prayers.

Game on

Nothing says true love like:

Someone searching Asia for a meaningful, plastic, made-in-China souvenir gift for his wife. 'Cause Lord knows you can't get stuff like that around here. Even better, he had previously (repeatedly) told me not to purchase said item because of all it's redeeming plastic junk qualities. He settled for a chocolate candy bar instead. It had intriguing Chinese script on the wrapper which made it extra cool.


Nothing says irony (no, not ironing) like:

That fantastic plastic made-in-China itemapparently not for sale in China. Being a "piece of junk" is actually it's most endearing characteristic (I swear I'm not being sarcastic for once), which is why it has held a place of honor on my Amazon wish list for so long. You know how this ends, right? My sweet husband showed up with an empty Hershey's wrapper, because it would have melted on the way home anyway.