Until Next Year

Today we head home.

So until next year . . .

Good-bye huge and gorgeous oak tree.

Good-bye cows.

Good-bye Maxine.

Good-bye Sam.

Good-bye Sonja.

Good-bye Grannie Pie and PawPaw. (See you in August!)

Good-bye boys . . . I would  pack in my suitcase and take you home with me . . . but my kids received too many Christmas presents . . . and I bought too many books. Never mind the fact that your mama would probably object.

And now for the big one . . . ready?

Good-bye light in the sky at 7:30 a.m.

Sigh. Everyone thinks we spend January in Texas in visit family. Nope. It’s to visit the sun.

(Is anyone else having flashbacks to a certain Margaret Wise Brown board book?)

Heading back to reality,

My Boy and His Bugs

Need I say more?

Except perhaps it is a good thing we live in Alaska where most of the bugs are a) not this big and b) relatively harmless.

Oh, and one more thing . . . before being subject to my son’s inspection . . .

after being subject to same child’s inspection . . .

Make note of how many appendages are missing in the second photo.

Trying so hard not to let my phobias influence my bug-lovin’ son,

Fishing Preparedness

Wise Alaskans appreciate preparedness.

My children, I am pleased to announce, are actively applying the preparedness lessons they have learned.

(Make a note – that sentence did not include the word “appropriately.”)

For example, one can never predict exactly what one might encounter when fishing. It is, therefore, prudent to anticipate a variety of circumstances.

I’m not exactly sure what my son thought he might encounter this afternoon when he headed out to the tiny little pond on his grandparents ranch to fish for catfish with his father.

Clearly he wasn’t anticipating falling in the pond. Whatever he was expecting I’m assuming he felt prepared.


Or at least really, really cool.

I think we’ll revisit the lesson on appropriate flotation devices.


Decades of Friendship

See the men in this picture?

They have been friends since kindergarten.

See the children in that same picture?

Those children belong to those men. Two of those children are now in kindergarten.

I love this. I really, really love this.

It is one of the beautiful and precious things about living a life of any length . . . history . . . a long history . . . with a friend . . . kids who know each other because their parents were children together.

Here’s to the friends who have known us and who have loved us through the decades . . .


Do I know you?

The other day G looked like a Texas country boy . . . clean-cut hair, shirt tucked in, jeans, belt where it belongs and cowboy boots.

I hardly recognized him.

Who are you and what did you do with my child?

It lasted for about three hours.

And then the boy I know came back (minus the hair) . . . just in time for a trip to town (much to his father’s chagrin).

If you look closely you can see that the boots are even on the wrong feet . . . because if they were on the right feet it was either a) entirely by accident, or b) because someone else put his shoes on his feet for him.

That’s my baby!

Previous Older Entries