Sometimes I Catch Myself Staring into Space, Counting Down the Hours 'Til I Get to See Your Face

Apparently people name their homes. Like "Serenity" (dude, I WISH) to something-or-another manor.

We name our yard.

The meadow.


I know! Behold our super-awesome-nerdy-smarts! The meadow! Squee!

Actually, it is a meadow back there. The perimeter of the yard is wooded and there's a grassy knoll (spelled.right.on.the.first.time.I.rock.thanks) and it gets very meadow-y back there.

Especially when it's the middle of May and SOMEONE hasn't mowed yet.

(Aaron, I'm looking at you here.)

(And no, I don't care that you're on a business trip. Magically mow it, damn it.)

This is also the part of the year where we transition from clean, tidy garden to holyfuckignshitexplosion. It's quite a sight.








Makes me want to picnic in my backyard.

One by One I Counted on Those Happy Days

Oh, hi.

Yes, I'm alive.

After running a 103 fever for five days.

Three trips to doctors.

One IV bag.

Four prescriptions.

Countless answers of "no" when asked have you been to Mexico recently?

And one big-ass paranoia episode of needing to write letters beyond my grave thanks to the "high likelihood of depression and anxiety" thanks the flu medicine.

::cough, cough::

And one new love affair with cough syrup spiked with codeine.

Seriously. That stuff rocks.

But it's You That Makes Me Lose My Head

I only half accomplished what my friends did this weekend, but what a lovely accomplishment it was.

We had a huge trip (unintentional, of course) to the farmers market and returned with a vanload of plants.


Our yard was still too sopping wet to get them in the ground, and I'll be damned if I don't have to go to the garden center for soil, mulch and a few new pots.

Because a girl needs new pots for new herbs, yes? Yes, of course you should say. OF COURSE.

p.s. Dogs like cocoa mulch a lot, idiot me didn't think of chocolate factor when putting that down.

p.p.s Yes, I learned my lesson.

Do You Have Any Other Skills? Like Typing?

My house smells like sick kid and wet dog.

I suppose this should make sense, as all I've done this week is take temperatures, wipe paws, make snotty noses blow, dispense medicine and run for cover when someone shakes.

But still?

Ick.

Gag.

Sob.

At least there's an upside...




... it's becoming my mantra. Find the good, find the good, find the good...

I Got a Girl Who Lives with Me

OHMYHELLISWEARTOBUDDHAIMGONNAKILLTHISDOG.

Okay, maybe not. But still.

You have to keep an eye on her.

She thinks things make of plastic are nummy, the grill is her special nom nom maker a dirty tissues are fair game.

And don't get me started on shoes.

Today she managed to get into some ant poison (and we don't like to use it but hellooooooooo colony of ant eggs right! by! my! shower!) because Darwin forgot to close the door (I got it away fast and rinsed her mouth out) and then she promptly went outside and dug a whole in the grass.

Good thing she's cute.

And doesn't pee inside.

Ai quete, but stop calin me "yoda."

[Dar's head is healed, but now has a croup-y cough. Parenting rocks!]

And don't think for two seconds I didn't consider using this song as my post title...

The Fact is (Psssh) it Happens

Darwin has a tendency to run a lot. And fast. Like, really fast. As in, how soon can we get the kid an olympic trainer? Is four old enough?

A couple of days ago he was racing a girl at the park. He was going super-fast and crashed and burned. On concrete.

Hello, head injury.


Blood was everywhere, pouring down the side of his face. I cleaned him up fairly well with the first-aid kit in the van, but hello big gash above the eyebrow. Someone had to go the hospital.

And, of course, someone needed stitches. And someone had a concussion. And someone is suppose to take it easy for at least four days because someone has a concussion worse than initially thought.

Because that's how someone rolls.


mi hewman gotz hurt, snugl makez bettah

Stay Forever and Ever and Ever and Ever

We had a lovely time in Arkansas. The van and house still aren't unpacked, but the trip was awesome.

We got to visit with Aaron's parents, Hot Mandy (actually, Aunt Mandy but the boys call her Hot Mandy because, well, she's hott), our niece and Aaron's step-father's birth-mother.

Welcome to the 21st Century family vacation.

During one of our visits to the Wal-Marts in town (because that's how you talk when you're in Duggarland) we ran into some dogs from the Humane Society (via stopping in the PetsCo) and met a puppy. A puppy whom my inlaws dragged Aaron to meet. A puppy who was obsessed about all weekend despite a certain person (AARON) saying no, I don't want no dog (again, we were in Duggarland, we had to talk like that), that dog didn't bond with me, we're not ready for a dog, I ain't scoopin' no dog poop, I don't want a dog.

So yesterday we were headed home, 20 miles into the drive Aaron starts reminiscing about the dog and makes me turn around.

Meet Kylie.


She sat on Aaron's lap for the six-plus hour drive home. Even though we had a crate for her in the van.

Because, you know, he didn't want no dog, the dog didn't bond with him, he's not ready for a dog, he ain't scoopin' no dog poop, he don't want a dog MY ASS.

My Luck's Like a Button, I Can't Stop Pushing it

Notes from today: Griffin's viying to be taken to the Franz Ferdinand concert on a school night next week.

And my dishwasher flooded the kitchen today. As in flooded my kitchen. Oy.

'Cause When Hard Work Don't Pay Off And I'm Tired

An orthodontist in town is surely gonna love us.


Griffin lost two teeth at school today. Two.

I'm going to be mostly posting photos this week. My theory is that I'll take more clicks than usual and find some happiness in the hectic-ness as we going into the double-digit days of Aaron's business trip followed immediately by a family trip out of state (hello little cabin, I'm looking forward to seeing you again) for a long weekend.

Coo, Coo, Ca-Choo

Whenever Aaron travels it's like I'm living my entire life holding my breathe.

We're on day four of sixteen and I'm officially blue in the face. I have nothing to say other than we're alive, send lattes. Lots and lots of lattes.

Also, wear socks when you visit - the floor is rather crunchy.


Is this bad? A big bowl of stuff for our compost - it makes me ridiculously happy. Not just eating more vegetables (I've been on a sugar ban this week and OH MY strawberries actually taste sweet!), and not just a big pile of stuff to toss on the compost pile, but also finding a new use for a bowl we couldn't use for food anymore (the porcelain is flaking).

Repurposing makes me happy.