Face-Makers

Boy.



Girl.

Dirty Fun

You know you want to join in.

A Summer Day

Taller every day










Goofy Boy









And when did she get so lanky and beautiful?










And one more, because it is just this kind of day:

Pipsqueak Parade

On the fourth, Marian and Leo walked in the parade in a small town in the valley with a population of about 600. (Which is more than 5 times larger than the town closest to us, about 10 miles away.) Along with other animal shelter folks, Marian and Leo walked dogs, and did a fabulous job. (Unfortunately, none of the pictures turned out.) While they were in the parade, Sophie and I watched the parade. The day was beautiful, and so was the girl.






And my favorite part of any valley parade--The Shriners!

Prairie Sailing

She's catching some wind!

Wednesday's Good Stuff

Three kids laughing hilariously and simultaneously with delight in their mother's antics.

The initially disappointing wine that tasted lovely when mixed with diet 7-Up.

A chubby-tummed water-baby thrilled with her first professional swimming lesson.

A big brother comforting his little sister.

A cool overcast day that left no droplets on my glasses.

The surprise of my favorite gluten-free cookies on the supermarket shelf.

Financial aid closer on the horizon.

A nine-year-old choosing to do math problems in bed at night.

Cute dogs leaning into under-the-collar scratches.

Stolen moments alone.

Sunday's Good Stuff

The heat wave broke, and my clothes are no longer sticking to my skin.

My little redheads, giggling and running while holding hands.

The laughter of the big girl, and her bright blue eyes.

The smell of flowers on the air.

Eternal familiar cackling.

Comfortable and soothing re-runs.

Growing kittens with fat bellies and bright eyes.

The nap in the embracing recliner.

Communities changing and growing in laughter.

Kids everywhere in everything, learning and laughing and touching and thriving.

Favorite music.

Intelligent adult conversation.

Motel Sleepers

Leo and Sophie started out on opposite ends of the bed (laying cross-ways), but ended up snuggled together in the middle.






And Marian slept in the walk-in closet. (Boy, was I shocked to see a walk-in closet!)


I love my kids!

(Leo got his cast off the next morning.)_

Adventure in Bigfoot Country

I'm so glad the Bigfoot body was a scam. I don't want anybody to find one EVER. Stay shy, Bigfeet. I'm rootin' for ya.

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On my last day as a 32-year-old, my dear Suki (sweet little car o' mine) decided she simply couldn't carry us any farther than the 1200+ miles she'd come from Colorado, so she protested by randomly and violently waving her windshield wipers (despite the controls being in the off position), and then losing all forward momentum when I turned off the air conditioner. I let her idle and rest on the side of the road for a bit, in the hopes of raising her spirits a bit, but her tantrum wasn't over. When I coaxed her into going forward again, the windshield wipers flailed in proportion to the weight of my foot on the gas pedal, and she randomly flashed some display lights on her dash. I relented and turned the ignition off, and she lapsed into a coma from which none could wake her.



Thus, the kids and I spent several hours on the side of the road on Snoqualmie Pass, pictured above. It's beautiful, and looks idyllic from a distance, but the roar of the 70mph traffic mere feet away is still in my ears almost 24 hours later. I hauled all our Colorado possessions a hundred feet up the road into a minuscule pull off, where we set up camp. Our Van Gogh car sunshades, giant wicker picnic basket, and rainbow and Buddha canvas bags festooned the side of the rode and passersby gawked as we sweated in our insufficient shade. Once AAA towed the car away, we were on our own, and likely mystified more than one human hurtling through the mountains in their obedient hunks of steel and plastic. We passed the time with songs and silliness, stories and shade-seeking, furtive toileting and Bigfoot-watching. Leo is certain he saw branches mysteriously move as though someone were keeping an eye out for us.

We're now safely ensconced at my parents' house in Tacoma, sans car. Interestingly, the shop where Suki was towed lost power about the time she arrived, and in spite of being a major business (the Toyota dealership, in fact) in a metro area, word says that they won't get power back before Wednesday. Who'd'a thunk it? So, in the meantime, I'm sending healing vibes to Suki and preparing to bid farewell to the laptop who has been dreaming of coming back to Colorado with me. C'est la vie.