Ugh. Dirt.

Dirt. Lots and lots of messy dirt.

We had 30 loads of dirt brought in to make a nice finish grade around our house. 30 LOADS! It was free, but sometimes you get what you pay for.

Indeed.

You see, it is good quality, lovely dirt, but it was FULL of rocks, roots and sticks. Ten (or more) hours of hard work has given us this to show for it:

Thank goodness for Paul's Dad and his farm equipment! We have put both his bobcat and tractor to good use...raking, loading, dumping.

We have a bit more rocks, etc, to clean out of the dirt, followed by additional prep work, but we are hoping to plant some new grass seed by the coming weekend. The forecast shows rain and we'd be more than happy to let God do the initial watering!

And I will be more than happy to NEVER look at a yard full of dirt again!

Scene From A Coffee Shop

I was meeting two of my best girlfriends for a rare, but treasured, morning at the local coffee house. We had premium seating, so we decided to order in shifts so as not to loose our comfy chairs and couch.

When it was my turn, I considered varying my order, but when it came down to it, I couldn't resist my usual: non-fat, extra hot white mocha. I returned to the girls to chat while I waited for my drink to be made. A few short moments later, I heard the barista call out a drink, but didn't catch what it was. Thinking the timing was about right for it to be mine, I headed up to the counter. There was a kind looking older gentleman waiting there for his drink. I asked him if he heard what the drink sitting on the counter was. "Something with a lot of words," he replied with a smile.

I laughed and said, "Well, it's probably mine, then." I hesitated for a moment because I wanted to verify with the barista before taking the drink. I turned back and commented, "I just want to make sure it's mine...I don't want to take it if it belongs to someone else."

"It was something with 'white' in it," he offers, helpfully.

"Yep. That must be mine. Thanks." I say with a smile and return to my seat, beverage in hand, to enjoy the morning with my girls.

Another Photo Bomber

After my last post, my mom sent me an email containing this photo:

I love this photo! It is photo bombing awesomeness, and I couldn't resist sharing. Thanks, Mom!

Photo Bombing 101

Good evening readers. Today we are going to explore the concept of photo bombing. "What is photo bombing?" you may ask. Allow me to explain: Photo bombing is when unsuspecting individuals are posing for a picture and someone jumps into the shot at the last minute, often in the background, and quite unexpectedly. Photo bombing can be quite funny when one follows the appropriate guidelines for the proper situation and timing. Allow me to illustrate with a factual event:

Photo bombing was one of the topics discussed on our road trip north for the Mariner's game on Saturday. (Suzanne, Tim and Kari had all piled into the car with us to make the trip.) Upon arrival in Seattle, Tim made a couple of noteworthy photo bombing efforts within our own group...once at a restaurant and once just outside of Safeco. We laughed and agreed that a sporting event was the perfect setting for a photo bomb as it is such a casual atmosphere. We were seated for the game shortly after and the topic was all but forgotten in light of the action, as well as the surprising absence of photographs being taken around us.

About half way through the game, the guys and Suzanne got up to get some soft pretzels, leaving Kari and I to chat and watch the game together. Low and behold, in their absence, the group of ladies in front of us pulled out their camera for a self portrait! Just as the woman in the middle stretched out her arm, I nudged Kari and whispered, "photo bomb!" Well...Kari whipped into action without a moments hesitation...slumping down to get into the frame and giving an outstandingly flashy grin! I committed to the bombing, but with less flair than my dear friend. We chuckled like a couple of conspirators, and then almost fell out of our seats laughing when we realized our faux pas:

It is a digital era.

Think about it for a moment and let that sink in. (tick-tock, tick-tock)

Uh-huh. The ladies took the photo, and then immediately checked the camera to see how the photo turned out. We were laughing hysterically at this point, just waiting to be caught. Somehow, they didn't seem to notice; at least no one commented on it anyway. It is about this time that the rest of our group came back to rejoin us. Kari scoot down to give the guys back their seats, and before we were able to share what just happened, the camera came out in front of us another time! Without discussion or premeditation, Paul and Suzanne jumped into photo bombing action with great enthusiasm! Again, digital technology strikes, only this time the photo bombing was much too successful to be missed. The ladies point them out, turn around, and good naturedly say, "Hey!" as our group erupted into hilarity, sprinkled with a little embarrassment. Then they scanned to the previous photo and Kari and I were caught. Thankfully they were very easy-going about the whole thing and seemed to find the humor in the situation. We trifled with the idea of giving them our email address and asking them to send us the photos, but none of us quite had the courage for that!

So what can we learn from this, dear readers? Photo bombing is fun in your own group any time. Photo bombing CAN be fun amongst strangers in a casual setting, but only when it does NOT combine assigned seating with digital technology!

This concludes Photo Bombing 101. I hope you have found it enlightening :)

His little hands want to pursue what his big hands do;

To be an FD man, one of the brave and few.

God, we thank you for our men every day,

The ones who run to help when others go away.

We lend them to the public to serve and protect;

There's not a call for help these men will neglect.

Grant safety to them all...but especially for mine

Cause we count the hours 'til he's home again, off-line.

He's a hero to our family; to our son it's particularly true

For his little hands want to pursue what his big hands do.

Phenomenom to Nemesis!

Let me preface this post by saying I have always been the type of person to look at the clouds and see images within them. Give me a fluffy white cumulus cloud and I may see a dog, a diving dolphin, or a speeding car. That being said...


Last week I discovered what I jokingly called my own personal phenomenon. Remember all the hullabaloo about the grilled cheese that looked like the Virgin Mary?? Mine was something like that, only less spiritual and not food related. Curious? I will share it with you :)


I call him Sid, my mysterious watermark squirrel. Do you see it? The fluffy tail is on the right, he has two hind legs, one front leg showing, and his head in profile is on the left. (Paul can't see him, which is impossible for me to believe!) I saw it one day when I was washing my hands, and I recognized his form immediately. I couldn't bring myself to wash him off, so I left him for a couple of days...just hanging out on my sink faucet...my own personal phenomenon.

I finally decided it was time to wash away Sid. I rubbed some water over the top of the faucet and tried to clean him away, but low and behold, he reappeared. I got my cleaning cloth and scrubbed the chrome surface, which only served to lightened the mark. Now that I want to, I cannot get rid of Sid. He has gone from silly phenomenon to Nemesis! Perhaps he is there to give me a message? Something like, "You are nuts!"

Ha! There might be a sliver of truth to that!

Three Responses To An Undesirable Dinner

I wasn't feeling particularly hungry tonight, so I pulled from my freezer a one skillet, heat and serve type meal for the kids. I don't usually make this type of thing as I prefer to cook from scratch, but occasionally, when Paul is on shift, I take the easy road with soup, noodles, or (as in this case) a skillet meal. It was an Asian type dish with veggies and orange chicken. It sounded appealing to me at the store.


My kids disagree...


Jenna: she sits quietly, eating little bites, but spending more time drinking her milk than consuming any solid food. She conveniently drops her cup. She moves the food around her plate. Still, very little eating happening.


Ben: from the first moment he laid eyes on the food he exclaims, "You know I don't like that!" Yes, he is my vocal one. I put his plate on the table and tell him he needs to eat anyway. "I can't eat this. I'm going to be sick," he tries next. I give him a matronly speech about how it is a good life lesson to learn how to eat things you don't like, because it is bound to happen to him when he is grown up. It goes in one ear and out the other as he tries excuse after excuse, "I'm not hungry. I'm tired. These vegetables are hurting my shoulder." He even tries riling up Jenna (who is still drinking her milk and playing with her food). He turns his plate and fork into a percussion section. ANYTHING but eat his food. Tears ensue...


Emily: she hears Ben's initial proclamation and sagely replies, "You've never had this before. You don't know...you should try it." She is eating, but not saying much. I notice she is drinking lots of water. I think she refills her cup four or five times. She tells me about another type of food she doesn't like, and her method for eating it. I finally ask her if she likes it and she shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. She finishes relatively quickly. A little while later she comes to me as I am cleaning up in the kitchen and says, "Thanks for dinner, Mom." I reply that she is welcome, somewhat surprised that she has thanked me at all. "There are some kids in the world that don't have dinner at all!" she says and goes on her way. (I am inwardly trying not to laugh at this last comment as she has just politely classified this meal as one step above starvation!!!)


Jenna: still playing without eating.


Ben: mysteriously falls off his chair, crying like a victim. Gagging. Drinking water. Belching.


Jenna: laughing at her brother, babbling to herself.


An hour and fifteen minutes later, everyone is done. The food is dutifully eaten. I held my resolve to the end. I sigh with relief and mentally ban all orange chicken skillet meals from now on!