I know I haven't updated anything this month. I blame it on the summer school and the kids being home 24/7. So below are a few pics from this month.
Enjoy ~
Friday, July 27, 2007
Camping
We have found that camping is a really great way to get away. It's cheap, the kids love getting dirty, I love the scenery and the stars, and who doesn't love making smores on a camp fire?? We always have a blast and Alex is really good at telling us stories by the fire. "uh-huh!"
Bunch Ball!
This was Alex's first team sport! Watching your kids play for the first time just melts your heart. I absolutely love how their is no such thing as postitions at this age and they all just run around in a big bunch chasing the ball, paying no attention to their team mates. But for my rambunctious little guy this was the perfect game for him!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Never Argue with a Woman
One morning her husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out.
She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?" "Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")
"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her. "I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading." "Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman. "But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.
MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.
She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.Along comes a Game Warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says, "Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?" "Reading a book," she replies, (thinking, "Isn't that obvious?")
"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her. "I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading." "Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault," says the woman. "But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.
MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can also think.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Banectorine
Yesterday the kids and I went to the grocery store on a fruit mission. We were going to make fruit kabobs. They each got their own child-size grocery cart to push around and I let them pick out what they thought looked good. They had a blast. When we were finished I checked their carts to see what they had picked out. Alex did really well. His cart had bananas, apples, limes and mellons. Riley, however, had strawberries, grapes, bananas, and potatoes. I tried to explain why we were putting the potatoes away but she just looked at me like I was crazy. She really wanted those potatoes.
Trying to distract her and change the subject on her little mind, I asked her to help me grab some pineapple and nectorines. Successful! The pineapple really excited her and I showed both of them how to check for a good one. They love to smell fruit, it's too cute. We decided we had enough and headed to the check out line.
When we got home, I sliced it all up and put it all on a large platter. I also added marichino cherries and marshmallows. I've never seen my kids so excited to eat fruit! They had more fun trying to get the fruit on the sticks than our earlier activity of playdough. Especially when they were working with the grapes.
When Daddy got home and asked about their day, they were so excited to tell him about the fruit. He asked each what their favorite was. For Alex, it was the marshmallows and Riley said, "The Ba-nectorines!"
Trying to distract her and change the subject on her little mind, I asked her to help me grab some pineapple and nectorines. Successful! The pineapple really excited her and I showed both of them how to check for a good one. They love to smell fruit, it's too cute. We decided we had enough and headed to the check out line.
When we got home, I sliced it all up and put it all on a large platter. I also added marichino cherries and marshmallows. I've never seen my kids so excited to eat fruit! They had more fun trying to get the fruit on the sticks than our earlier activity of playdough. Especially when they were working with the grapes.
When Daddy got home and asked about their day, they were so excited to tell him about the fruit. He asked each what their favorite was. For Alex, it was the marshmallows and Riley said, "The Ba-nectorines!"
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Summer School
I love summer school! I am taking 2 classes this summer and so far, it would appear that, I've got two great teachers. They are both very lively and really have managed to make the hours fly by. Which is fantastic because a 3 hour English class is really, no fun at all, in my opinion. It is so lame how excited I get when I go to school. Which I guess is good since I plan on going for a long time. I have visions of one day, FINALLY being able to practice medicine. But for now, it's one class at a time.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Crazy or What?
So summer is upon us. It's supposed to reach 100 degrees this week! I love the sun, but hate the extreme heat. So why do I live here? I'm not sure. I would love to move, but where would I go?? Anywhere, I think. Change is good and I could use a lot of change right about now. I am always looking into the realestate markets in different cities. This week, I've been considering Kentucky and the Carolinas. No real reason, just dreaming I guess. Wouldn't it be fun to be able to pack up and move without worries? Just to go and see what it's like to live somewhere else for a little while. No cares about finding a new job or school for your kids. Just to see what the rest of this great country is like.
Huh . . .
Huh . . .
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I know that I haven't told anyone about this site of mine yet, but this just came from my Nana and it was too funny NOT to post!
THE PUBLIC LADIES ROOM
The ladies can probably identify with this story and the men now know why they should never ask "What took you so long?"....
Ladies know that when you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance." In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around you neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible.
It's still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.
It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
The ladies can probably identify with this story and the men now know why they should never ask "What took you so long?"....
Ladies know that when you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance." In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around you neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible.
It's still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.
It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
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