It's a Good Day for Sleeping, It Must Be in the Air

J's birthday started off early. When I got back from a 5 mile run at 6:30 in the morning, the monkeys were all jumping around J, who was prostrate on the living room floor, desperately trying to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. We roused him and presented him with his gift -- 40 feet of 6 mm accessory cord, perfect for making Prussic slings and a gift certificate to a store where he could buy even more things made of metal and nylon that could potentially save his life when he goes wandering around on mountains.

O woke up in the morning with a cough. By noon it had progressed to a full-blown cold. After lunch we read a few books, but I was falling asleep between turning the pages. When we had read two books, O settled down with his blanket for a nap, poor boy. Somehow, my eyes closed and I too drifted off. I was aware enough to know that H went downstairs to play with trains. I woke with a start a little while later, thinking it was just too quiet. O was still on the other end of the couch and H, well, I couldn't find him! I finally located him my second lap of the house fast asleep on the floor by the trampoline.

I love nap days.

Boobie Village

O ran inside the house one day last week after spending some time in the sandbox. "Mom!" he called, "Come look at my Indian Village!" After going outside to look at it, I decided we needed a picture. Really, doesn't it look like a village of breasts?

They're made with a funnel, in case you couldn't figure it out. Some plastic surgeon's dream... or any guy's for that matter!

The Project, Part I

S has a World Geography project that is due October 23rd. When he brought the assignment home a few weeks ago I wanted to make sure that he knew it is HIS project. I'm trying to teach the kid some responsibility and accountability. No mommy staying up late the night before it's due, frantically trying to finish the project. He had an idea of what he wanted, and I've given him some suggestions, but he drew out the plan for it and collected a few pebbles from our yard for the finishing touches when it's time for that. I suggested to J that he could help him form the mountains out of plaster and then S could take over from there. I should've known better.




J making the wire forms for the paper mache


S providing tape for J, who is still making the wire forms for the paper mache


S working the paper mache (which is slimy and yucky and gross-feeling and yet oddly satisfying too)


S managing the paper mache, but --

J is putting it on the forms. Then, since the newspaper strips were getting a little too soggy, J (old man that he is) was getting a backache, and I was tired of hearing S freak out every time the strips broke from being too soggy and J complain of his old, aching back, I stepped in and handed the strips to S. J hovered, patching and adjusting until...

Looks good, doesn't it? J purposely put an arrete on the right that he'd like to spend some time on. When it dries, J wants to spray paint it, but I keep reminding him that, "It is Sam's project, and it has to look like a 3rd Grader did it, not the 3rd Grader's dad." We'll see if the 3rd Grader's dad can restrain himself.

Birthday Eve

Tomorrow my hubby turns 35. Why does 35 sound so much closer to 40 than 34 does? I've been teasing him relentlessly because it's fun and aging doesn't bother him. I think he's starting a mid-life crisis involving climbing really big mountains and buying crampons. Oh well, at least it's not a fast car or a leggy blond.

The cookies are made ("35" and assorted pirate shapes -- I was swayed by the cool treasure chest-shaped tin they came in at Michael's for 75% off), the gift has been purchased. I've dutifully instructed all who ask what he wants for his birthday to direct them to REI gift certificates. I've decided that, instead of recycling all the AARP mail that comes to me because of my name, I will save them and give them to J.

All is in readiness. Tomorrow I will wake up next to "a crotchety old man!"

The Neglectful Gardener, a Pastoral Novel, by E

'Twas early Spring when the young lad and his fair mother were out in the garden. The boy had in his eager hand a packet of seeds. With optimism shining in both their eyes, mother and son carefully selected a choice spot for, what they hoped would become, a bed for their dinner greens. With tender care throughout the summer months that followed, the seeds, sown in a row were weeded and watered. Bright eyes searched the ground for any sign of verdant life. And then, to their surprise and delight, one day appeared the lettuce. "Dear Husbandman," inquired the Lady, "wouldst thou like to partake of the fresh green lettuce in our garden for thy evening repast?" "No, good woman," came the reply, "Not tonight." And so the months wore on, leaving the garden to fend for itself as a trip to the desert and then a trip to the shore took the faithful gardeners away from their home. And when they returned from their journeyings, alas! A slothful spirit had overtaken all of the household. Weeds began to creep into the bed of greens and the lettuce went unpicked...

This is what happens to lettuce if you don't pick it:

Fascinating. I'm wondering if the lettuce seeds are in the top knobby things. Maybe next year we will plant a whole flowerbed full of lettuce trees.

I'm not much of a gardener, although one day I'd like to be. The big garden in our backyard has been a challenge since we moved in, but faithfully, we planted peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and corn. We kept up on the weeding pretty well until we left for Gallup in July. When we returned, we repented of our sloth and cleared the weeds out again until we left for California in August. When we got home, it was a hopeless cause. The soil in our back garden has no nutrients, so we've fertilized and thrown all our kitchen scraps out there in an effort to feed the soil. I'm not sure it's working, but we are growing random tomato plants all over. It's pretty funny.

As for flowers, well, I'm not too big on flowers. They look nice, but I'd rather use the flower beds for something functional -- like lettuce trees or broccoli
,

zucchini, or pumpkins. I had great plans for peas climbing up the porch railing, but the snails squelched that idea. The problem with planting things in the front flowerbed is that we're not out there too much in the summer and plants get neglected. Lettuce tree, anyone?

Playing Catch Up

I am sitting on my couch, deliriously exhausted, but having to be awake to manage the irrigation water for the next 1 1/2 hours, so this post may not be very coherent. Just to warn you.

Since my penultimate post much has happened. According to my camera, we have walked the Provo River Parkway Trail to Bridal Veil Falls (along with everyone else in Utah County, it seemed that day), hiked to Stewart Falls on the back of Mt. Timpanogos, hiked the "Y", and meandered around Cascade Springs. Pictures are forthcoming, although if you are not my mom, you probably don't care too much.

O, H, and I have lunched on Provo Temple grounds, gone to the library, and generally enjoyed each other's company while S has been in school.

Here is a picture that I really like for some reason:

H's fat little cheeks, the big broccoli tree -- I don't know. It just makes me giggle.

J has been in and out of town, taken days off and worked overtime -- you know, the usual.

I just finished reading "Quicksand and Cactus" by Juanita Brooks. It's a memoir of her life in Bunkerville and Southern Utah during what historians call, "The Middle Years" of Utah history.
"The Middle Years" refers to the time after the great Mormon Migration happened, but before "The Outside" came into Utah. Very interesting read.

Sleepy lady off to check the water...

Act Now!

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