One is the Chasiest Number

As a rule, I'm not a fan of leaf blowers.  Now, I love what they do, I mean they are the only reason our house isn't completely full of leaves brought in by our dogs.  But, there have been many, many times when I've seen someone with one of those leaf blowers that are so heavy they have the motor strapped onto them like a backpack, and they're chasing around one darn leaf.  One.  I'd just think to myself, "Hey, why don't you just pick that leaf up with your hand, put it in your pocket, and be done with all that fuel wasting."

Well, the other day I was vacuuming our house because of the sudden crazy increase in sticky leaves ending up all over the place.  And what was I doing?  You guessed it...I was chasing one leaf around.  One.  Wasting all kinds of electricity in the process.  And did I pick up that darn leaf with my hand and put it in my pocket and be done with it?  No, I did not.  I pulled out the vacuum hose and showed that leaf who was boss.

Yeah, exuding hypocrisy...what can I say....

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Super Fruit

The other night little guy and I were walking our dogs.  We rounded a corner and a squirrel ran across the street in front of us, rustled around under a tree, grabbed a pomegranate in its mouth and ran up to the top branches of a tree that must have been at least 30 feet tall.  We just stood there watching, full of wonder and amazement.

I've got some pomegranate tea 'round here...gonna brew some up.  That blur you'll see in my front yard?  Best check up in the top of our Chinese Tallow, bet I'll be there!

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It was a Swishin' and a Swipin'

Made a run to Target tonight.  All went well, found everything I was looking for, all that stuff.  As I was backing out of my spot I somehow managed to hit my wiper switch and my turn signal. 


"Swipe, click, swipe, click, swipe, click..."


I started driving down the parking lot lane trying to problem solve my dilemma.  I dared not take my eyes off the "road", so I ended up just trying stuff.  And, yeah, that meant that in addition to my wipers and my turn signal, I now had my rear wiper going as well.  I proceeded about a hundred feet, managed to turn my signal off (I do know where that switch is...after all, I've had my car for five years now), but every time I tried to get the wipers off I managed to squirt more liquid and speed up the wiping frequency.


"Swipe, squirt, swipe, squirt, swipe, squirt..."


So, what did this girl do?  You got it, I pulled over (safety first!) and thoroughly examined the switches.  They aren't nearly as user friendly and obvious as you'd think!  But I persevered and after a few tries, the only things running were the radio and the engine.  Yay! 

Yeah, who's a brilliant problem solver now, eh?

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Down Yonder in the Briar Patch

Kids have hobbies or activities.  Those things guide much of the family's time.  It's all good stuff, but whew!  Our house?  Well...we've got karate, band, soccer, football, track, and rocketry.  Now, a lot of those the school takes on the brunt of the effort (thank you very much!), but karate and rocketry are all family stuff.  And, thankfully, my dad does the bulk of the rocketry.  Except, that is, for the retrieval part of launches.

Today Dave, the little guy, and I stomped around farm country looking for a rocket that the little dude had launched beautifully, its parachute deployed right on time, and then it proceeded to float in the wind far beyond the dreaded thicket (thankfully!).  Armed with GPS coordinates (well, at least coordinates from a bit before it actually touched down) we headed out over the river and through the woods, or at least through the fields and through a bunch more fields.  Did we think to bring our tennies?  Yes, we did.  Did we think to wear jeans on a 100° day?  Nope, sure didn't.  So, are you wondering what crop was planted?  I'll tell ya.  It was maize.  And is maize all soft and sweet?  Well, perhaps it is at some point.  But today's maize was a mix of new growth and old chopped plants.  And, let me tell you, old chopped maize plants are basically half inch diameter broken toothpicks sticking up at odd angles about shin high.

"Ouch!  Ooph!  Dang it!  Rackafratz!"  on and on and on through what I think would be better named The Briar Patch! 

But, by golly, we found that rocket!  Took way over an hour of searching, at least a hundred nicks and scratches on my lower legs (and on Dave's and Nicholas').  As we were driving home reflecting on the day's adventure, we all decided that it was a fabulous day!  But, you know what I think I earned?  I think I earned the title of "Rocketeer Mom".  Surely there's a bumper sticker to go with that.

I know, I know...I should be posting a photo of my little guy with his rocket.

But, no, I'm going for the "See how Awesome a Mom I am?" shot instead.

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Gunning for It

I remember when my kiddos were little.  The were so cute and sweet...I mean seriously, probably the cutest children ever.  But, as soon as they were able to grasp sticks, I swear they tried shooting with them.  Adorable factor went down several notches for sure.  We were a "no guns" family (still are), but no matter how deliberate we were in our avoidance of them seeing or experiencing violence, they still loved nothing more than shooting something...anything.  (I admit we have become quite lax about this as they've gotten older.)

So, today it was no surprise when I received a text from the little guy.


Little guy:  "Cab j please get an airspff gun"


OK, so obviously he's all thumbs, but if you read between the mistakes, the little dude is hoping for permission to get an airsoft gun.

I ignored his text because, well, I just wasn't ready to deal with it, particularly via text.  So, of course I decided to just pretend he never sent it and hope he forgot all about it.  Yeah, right.


In the car this afternoon.


Little guy:  "So can I get an airsoft gun?"

Me:  "But what if it's a gateway gun?"

Little guy:  "I don't want to kill animals or people.  I just want to shoot my friends."

Me:  "Go talk to dad about this."


Sure I wimped out, sure I avoided again.  I'm good with both of those things.

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Scout's Gone Green

Our dog, Scout, is basically the fuzzy part of Velcro.  There's this tree that leans over our back yard that is dropping its leaves like mad.  Well, the leaves are the stickiest, sappiest leaves ever.  Every time Scout heads to the back yard to go potty, she comes back in with leaves all over her.  They're on her sides, back, legs, face, and especially her feet.  I mean seriously, she comes in wearing leaf shoes. The girl be stylin'!

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Leaving his Mark

I finally put on my new sneakers today.  They came in the mail several weeks ago, but they've been happily sitting on my shoe shelf since then.  Well, today was the big day!  I think I love them so much I just might have to name them.  When I look down at them from above (which isn't far, I'm only about five feet tall) they look like the sneakers my kids wore when they were wee ones.  Big white rubber toe and widely spaced eyelets for fat white shoelaces.  I managed to walk around outside to a neighbor's house, hang the laundry on the line, go grocery shopping, cook dinner AND keep everything that was white, white.


Little guy:  "Did you get new shoes mom?" he very sweetly asked after dinner...as he placed his big toe on the rubber toe of my new right shoe.


Let me pause here to say that this kid pretty much never, NEVER, wears shoes in the summer...and he runs around in the street...and he doesn't really ever wash them thoroughly during his daily bathing routine.


Me:  "Hey, aaaaaagh!" as I hastily retracted my foot, leaving the big black toe print clearly visible on the once pristine rubber.

Little guy:  "Oh, sorry mom.  Chill, it's just a shoe."


He's right.  OK, now I can breathe.  It's rather like when you have a new car.  That first ding is sort of a relief...sort of.

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