It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Let the holidays begin! It was the last day of school (munchkins) and work (me) yesterday, so we have officially started Christmas at the PM house.

Although we've been working up to it for a week now. Last week was The Girl's first public cello appearance at her school concert. Look how excited she is!

And here she is getting her Yo-Yo Ma on.

You can hear for yourself how good they sound (she's just behind the girl to the right in the white dress). I was honestly quite impressed - the vast majority of these kids have been playing for only four months.

Of course, school concerts aren't the only Christmas cheer going on. It was the church pageant on Sunday.

The Boy is a wise guy and The Girl is a shepherd. She was a bit mad about that; she wanted to be Mary. We actually had a real Baby Jesus this year so we didn't have to use the doll (that's a small church for you).

I love our church's Christmas pageant. The kids' part is totally ad hoc; they practice their song for a couple of weeks before, they get a script by email during the week, and then that morning we throw costumes on whoever stands still long enough. You're a visiting child? Awesome - we're one wise man short. No, you don't have to say anything. Just stand there with your paper crown and smile.

It's actually been a brown Christmas so far, much to the sadness of our kids. Our fancy new snowblower, bought with memories of 12 ft dumpings and collapsed Metrodome roofs haunting us, has been used exactly once. However, if that means insurance against winter coming, I'm all for it.

It was 8 degrees (Celcius, baby!) on Sunday afternoon and I went for the most amazing walk by the lake in just my sweater. (Well, I had pants on, too. And shoes.) Got to see the sun setting over the lake - look how much open water is left.

Fast forward through three days of work/school (which actually dragged and draaaaaaged for those of us counting down the hours). The first year we lived here, we brought all our Christmas presents north with us to open on Christmas. As we packed up presents (wrapped) that we knew we were just going to bring back with us (unwrapped), we felt a bit silly.

Plus, there's the lure of the "just our family" Christmas. Something we want to give our kids but also something that is logistically difficult since we're usually far from home that day. So our solution has been to celebrate PM Christmas the night before we leave for the Great White North, regardless of what the little number on the calendar says.

The "traditional" meal is fettucini alfredo. (We had caesar salad and garlic bread too, so I'd stay clear of the PM house for at least today - it's pretty garlicky.)

Then as soon as the kids can muscle us away from the table (I had third helpings of salad just to make them mad, snicker), it's present time.


And it ends as all Christmases should - each kid in a separate chair, eyes glued to a tiny screen and the house filled with the sounds of Pokemon and Link and Zelda dancing through our heads.

We're off for Christmas Part 2 (and 3 and 4) as soon as The Husband gets home from work. Here's hoping they've got some snow north of the 49th!

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Cowboys and Spandex

Am I the only girl to barf in a Vegas casino?

Probably not.

But the only one to do so because of too much Gatorade?

Quite possibly.

Last weekend The Husband and I ran what must be our craziest race yet - a half marathon in Las Vegas. Probably not the first place you think of when picturing a destination race, but it was So. Much. Fun.

Seeing as how our plane departed from the Midwest, we didn't really notice the odd cowboy hat. And during our layover in Phoenix, the many cowboy boots sorta made sense. But when we got to Vegas and started seeing Stetson after Stetson, we got a bit bewildered.

Turns out the National Rodeo Finals were in town at the same time as the half marathon. Which basically meant it was the Calgary Stampede meets The Running Room.

Totally hilarious. Everyone was parading around in their gear, whether that meant full-on spurs and lassos (yep, I saw a lasso) or arm-warmers and Nikes. (Fortunately, never on the same person.)

There was even a mechanical bull (sorry, most of these are phone pictures, so quality is not great):

It being Vegas, it was tended by a girl wearing chaps over the latest from Victoria's Secret. Of course.

But our purpose wasn't eight seconds; it was 13.1 miles, so we threw in our lot with 38,000 others in the Spandex Crew.

Saturday was the expo and packet pick-up. Sunday morning was carb-loading:

Pancakes for The Husband and an omelette for me. I will say that if you're trying to rest up before a race and drink lots of (non-alcoholic) fluids, Vegas is not the easiest location. So we spent Sunday in our room, watching football and reading. I'll let you guess who did which activity.

Our hotel was the start/finish line, so we got to watch the preparations unfold all afternoon. The race was at night and they shut down The Strip for it, so it was two hours of gawking at traffic backing up and people flooding down to the start line.

Then we suited up and got ready to head down. It was about 10 degrees (Celsius), so while the Canucks were wearing shorts and t-shirts, the weather guy on the TV was warning about the dangerous cold and the other runners were suiting up in long pants and toques.

I have to say that the organizers get fairly low marks in the logistics department. By the time The Husband and I managed to get down to the finish line (no easy task, since there was a Cowboys vs. Spandex throwdown when the Christmas in Kentucky concert let out just as we were trying to get out and a thousand rodeo-ers met a thousand racers going the other way in a very narrow hallway [note: we lost. They had spurs]), we couldn't get into the right corrals, which meant we had to start way at the back.

It's chip time, so your personal gun only starts when you cross the start line, but when you have that many people and the fast people already got started and you're stuck in the back with the shufflers and the Nordic walkers (seriously? Poles on a half marathon??), your pace is determined by the folks around you.

We both spent the race dodging and weaving, trying to get a clear path. The Husband had it worse than I did, since he started in a corral of people used to doing 11 minute miles and he was hoping for sub-sevens. After about four miles, I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere fast, so I just settled in and tried to enjoy myself.

And I totally did. It was so unbelievably much fun running down The Strip. The lights, the bands, the crazy people, the perfect temperature for a run, plus all of the energy coursing through my body since I'd been sitting around all day - I ran that whole race with a smile on my face.

(Okay, totally not a great pic, but you can sorta see the Eiffel Tower lit up. Hey, I'm running with a camera phone - it's an action shot.)

The Bellagio fountain was totally cheering me on, too.

This is me crossing the finish line!

And the happy and proud couple back up in the hotel room, displaying hard-won medals.

Now, I've been looking forward to this race for almost a year. And my plan that entire time was to celebrate finishing the race with mashed potatoes at Nine Fine Irishmen and a nice big glass o' beer (seeing as how I would have had to abstain for awhile before the race).

So we got ready and headed out. Crazy crowds (that whole 38,000 people thing), so we decided to walk over instead of take the tram. And about ten minutes in I started to feel a bit woozy. So I sat down. In a hallway. We figured I'd overheated a bit in the race, since I was constantly sprinting and slowing down and sprinting again, trying to make up some time.

I felt better, so we kept going. Another five minutes and I had to sit down again. Which was closer - restaurant or our room? Restaurant at that point, so I decided to man up and get there, figuring mashed potatoes would set me right.

Got as far as this slot machine:

And suddenly felt the entire Gatorade I had chugged post-race deciding that it would rather be out than in.

"Where's the bathroom?!" said The Husband nervously.

"No time - I'll never make it..." I groaned.

"Here - take this," said my knight in shining armour, as he handed me his (favourite) sweatshirt.

Let's just say it's not his favourite anymore. In fact, it didn't come home with us.

I felt a lot better after puking up everything in my system (which I can tell you with authority was one Gatorade, three energy gels, and one protein bar), but not good enough to do much more than head back to the room and sleep it all off.

But fortunately we still had one more day, so the next day we managed to cram in all the celebrating. Including mashed potatoes at Nine Fine:

Seriously. The finest mashed potatoes I've ever had. And they were extra good for being so hard-won.

Happy Husband. In a t-shirt. Since he only brought one sweatshirt.

We got to see Cirque de Soleil (Beatles - so great!) and learned how to play craps (well, he learned and I just stood there with my eyes glazing over) and I got to play my beloved penny slots and we lost just enough to ensure we don't decide to make the casino our 401k but not enough to make us sad. We ate guacamole at our favouritest Mexican place and The Husband saw the guy from Pawn Stars right in the casino and we marveled at the belt buckles. We laughed and ran and barfed and laughed some more.

In short, an amazing vacation. I would highly recommend it. Although, if you go, I'd maybe avoid the slot machine by the escalators in The Excalibur. I tried to wipe it off, but you never know.

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More Like "Leftover Friday"

Happy day-after-(American)-Thanksgiving! I love American Thanksgiving. Although the Black Friday deals and Christmas hoopla is in full swing, this holiday nevertheless manages to escape colonization by commercialism. It really is a time of family and friends and togetherness and giving rather than receiving.

We had such a great day yesterday. Sunny and warm, so the kids and I went for a beautiful morning walk down to the lake, mugs of coffee and peppermint hot chocolate in hand. They spent most of the hour discussing the farm that they are going to have one day ("Mom - you won't need to buy your vegetables anymore. We will grow them for you!").

The Husband, meanwhile, was peeling potatoes. Our contributions to the Thanksgiving feast were mashed potatoes, jello salad (Epp Salad 2.0, a much kinder and less crunchy version of the one my grandma used to make complete with cranberries, apples, celery, marshmallows and - gag- an entire grated orange, peel and all), and pumpkin pie.

(I'm ridiculously proud of my pumpkin pie, seeing as I made it from scratch, pumpkins steamed in the oven and whole wheat/butter crust and all. Although I will admit to having a backup can of pumpkin in the pantry just in case.)

We spent the day with friends from church and it was just so, so good. The kids played Wii and hide-and-seek while the grownups went for a walk and then sat around the fire outside with coffee and my aforementioned amazing pie. It was a delicious day.

And more deliciousness today, with nothing on the calendar! The Husband is sleeping in, the kids are watching a made-in-Canada-teen-spy-show, the coffeepot is full, and so is my heart.

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Set OOO

Quick on the uptake, I am not. For a couple of years, I would periodically notice an appointment on my boss's calendar that said "set OOO." Couldn't figure it out for the life of me. Was she scheduling a specific time in which to gush over her kids? Or something else so awesome it required a full caps "OOOOOO"?

Until I got an email from her (no joke, two years after I started) with "OOO" in the subject line and then the dates for her upcoming vacation.

OOO = Out of Office.

(Am I the only one who didn't know this?)

I present to you this explanation as public service so that you aren't trying to figure out what is up with all the OOOing around here. Or why I'm updating my blog in the middle of the day.

Because it's VACATION TIME!

Hooo boy! I am off for the entire week. It's Thanksgiving week down here in Americaland and my kids' school rolls conferences/admin days together so that they actually get the whole week off (genius!). I hoarded some holidays so we didn't have to send them to all-day care for Monday to Wednesday, and now instead of blearily trying to make it through my Monday morning catching up on release notes, I'm drinking coffee and catching up on computer time while the kids are zoned out in front of the TV.

As usual, I have a bazillion things planned for my week off, and I'm sure I'll accomplish maybe half of them. We've got teacher conferences, doctor's, orthodontist, piano, hair, playdate already on the list, and a ton of errands to run. Plus I want to set up a little craft studio for The Girl downstairs. And finish another book. And do some long runs. You know - all those things that you somehow never get to on the weekend.

Checking item #1 off my list: swap out my free-wheeling-bicycling Blog PM for coffee-drinking-toque-wearing-sticking-out-her-belly-like-you-do-when-you're 10-weeks-pregnant-and-you're-sure-you're-already-showing Blog PM. She looks so contemplative, doesn't she?

This is what she is contemplating - our first snow:

Bah! These long autumns are fantastic, but they lull me into thinking maybe we might just escape the white stuff this year. We got three inches on Saturday and we went from grass to this in only a few hours. We've already got a snow fort on the front lawn, but I expect it will be short-lived as the forecast high for Turkey Day is 12 degrees. I'm not quite ready for full-on winter yet, so I'm glad that we're easing into it.

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In Which PM Makes Excuses

Oy! Over a month since I last posted? Already? Time flies when you're having fun doing the working girl/(often single) mom thing.

Busy times at the PM household. As usual, I guess. Weeknights are a blur of piano/cello/homework/supper. Weekends are either full of projects or else full of nothing (if we are tired of projects). The Husband has been doing a lot of travelling lately, too, so I get first, second, and third shift a good deal of the time.

Beyond that, work has been on the crrrr-azy side lately. And while software manuals might not win me a Giller or a GG, they *do* use up a lot of the ol' creative juices (hey, those sentences don't parallel structure themselves), so far too often my personal computing time ends up being on the passive I-just-want-to-read-someone-else's-blog side.

So now that you know that the dog ate my homework, am I forgiven?

Almost?

How about some pictures:

More fun with leaves!

We figure we've got most of them bagged now. Just in time for the snow!

The Girl sewing a blanket. Super craft girl lately.

The Boy just finished up soccer. Hooray for getting our weekends back!

The highlight of football this year was that their league got to play at the Metrodome. My favourite part about this picture is that everyone else is totally blurry and he's almost totally in focus. That's pretty much his football MO. I'm trying to hint gently to The Husband that the NFL may not be the most solid of retirement plans anymore.

Proud papa and son at the Metrodome (look at that fancy new roof!).

Hallowe'en loot. How she got all that in one hour is beyond me. She was a "Cat Princess" this year. No pic of The Boy. He reprised his princely role from the Renaissance Festival, but his costume came off as soon as he got in the door. He got similar amounts of candy though. Oy!

To top it all off, I had my birfday on Saturday. If I get the biblical threescore-and-ten, I'm halfway there. Watch this space for a mid-life crisis! And hopefully if I do have one, I'll actually blog about it before my next birthday!

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Headed to the Poorhouse

I told him we'd pay him a dollar a bag.

I think I may need more bags:

(And dollars)

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Dear God, Please Let There Be Somebody Behind Me to Read This...

Funniest shirt I saw in today's race.

(I laughed as I passed her. Heh heh.)

Yup, I'm the proud owner of a "Finisher" tee:

It was a fab day for a race - sunny and not too hot. Fairly cold at 4:45 this morning when we got up, though.

If you've never been in one, races are really quite fun. Nice people shout encouragement at you the whole way, and there's free drinks every couple of miles. Also, the people-watching is mah-ve-lous - it's an entire subset of humanity that you don't ever really see. There's the hardcore runners - they're wearing singlets and those shorts with vents up the side. There's the think-they're-hardcore runners - lots of fancy gear (water belts? for a supported 10 mile?) and cool gazes sizing you up.

My favourites are the old runners - white hair, shuffling gait. They wear whatever they want and they just don't care what they look like or how fast they're going.

I definitely don't think I'm an awesome runner, but I did do a personal best today, so yay me! Last year I did 10 miles in 1:49, which was already vast improvement on the first time I raced.

This year I did it in 1:39 - I took ten whole minutes off! Plus, my training over summer has been lackadaisical at best, so I'm really happy.

Also really sore.The Husband was right; there ARE lots of hills on the course.

But my favourite reason for running races? These babies:

After you cross the finish line and the nice people give you a medal, there's all this free stuff to pick up to replenish your body. I like the bananas and the powerade and the chips okay, but it's these salted nut rolls that totally make it all worth it. I never buy them (that whole peanut allergy thing), so they're my post-race treat.

So, all in all, an awesome race. And now that I'm back up to 10 miles, I can work towards the next level in my training program. I'm running a half marathon in December! It's a destination race - hint: it involves slot machines and Journey tribute bands. And they shut down the Strip. And it's at night.

Wonder if they have salted nut rolls, too?

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Ready...Set...

It's race day tomorrow!

I signed up for the TC10 waaaay back in June, back when I had only recently stopped running longer distances and back when I figured it would be easy to get back up there.

Urgh.

But, I bought my new shoes so some style and some fear have kicked my butt back into gear a bit. Of course, school starting plus the stomach flu has kept my training miles since then down to a not very respectable 40ish. (Clinging to that "ish"!)

I'm not nervous; more ambivalent. I definitely don't feel ready, but at the same time don't care a whole lot about how well I do, since the entire point of races for me is to set up some kind of a tangible goal. I am a tad concerned about the course; the other day The Husband (who has run this course two years in a row) said, "you know there's hills, right?"

No. I did not.

Wish me luck!

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A Day at the Faire

Oh, my poor, poor neglected blog. And my poor, poor neglected readers.

September has been kicking my butt. Totally. We've been slowly getting into the homework/piano practice/cello practice routine. The soccer/football one-two punch has totally hijacked our weekends. The Husband's been travelling three weeks out of four (glamour trips - Nebraska and Kansas - whoop!).

And then I found myself flat on my back in bed all day Saturday with the stomach flu. Argh!

But I do feel like I'm coming up for air. We've said "no" to a couple of commitments and that's freed up some weekday evenings. The Boy is getting used to his homework chart (heh heh - we have him reading Harry Potter in both English and French so we get required reading minutes for both languages pretty painlessly). The Girl is plucking herself some solid Good King Wenceslas action on her cello. And now that it's finally cool again, I'm able to pull out the ol' breadmaker and crockpot more often.

But, since you've been so patient, a treat: pictures from our trip to the Renaissance Festival a couple of weeks ago. The Girl heard about it from a friend and begged to go. We figured it was a bunch of people dressed up and the odd minstrel.

After spending half an hour in bumper-to-bumper traffic and seeing this, we realized that this thing is actually on a fairly grand scale:

This is actually only halfway between our parking spot waaaaaay out in a field and the fairgrounds.

The kids got their Renaissance totally on.

Best part of the day - agonizing over and finally choosing his very own wand. With his initials carved into it! I've been Expelliarmus!-ed about 18 times a day since then.

Putting his chess club skills to use. Poor kid - that guy in the booth is a total grand master. We should have realized that the prize (that Shrek chess set) was likely out of reach given that it was covered in dust an inch thick.

A meltdown or two later and we were on our way back to the twenty-first century, period-specific icy treat in hand. Also pretty new headdress! I'm pushing for a repeat costume performance for Hallowe'en!

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Guess Who Just Saved Herself $59?

Or: Who needs a big ol' truck when you've got a Jetta?

(The scene: IKEA, last night)

The Husband: You gonna help? Or just take pictures?

PM: Sorry. Totally helping.

(Yep - totally helping.)

And totally getting that bad boy home. Of course, it took us almost half an hour to drive since we were going verrrrry slowly, haunted by the memory of the last time we tried to transport an armchair, which started with "oh, I don't think we need to tie it down...it's heavy enough" and ended with a chair in multiple pieces with road-rashed leather on the side of the 59 highway....

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Here We Go Again!

Back to school today!

Someone was excited:

Actually, they both were excited. Nervous, but still glad to be heading back.

It feels a bit like the beginning of a golden year. This is the last year both kids will be at the same school (at least for awhile), and it's a school that I get after spending three years figuring out its twists and turns. We're finally starting to feel settled in our house, and we're loving being back in this neighbourhood more and more all the time.

Also, please note where they are standing - at the end of the driveway. Know why? Because the bus picks them up AND drops them off right by our house.

Of course, back to school is bittersweet. I'm definitely not ready for summer to end, much less for the craziness that is soccer/football/piano lessons/cello/homework/church worship band/small group to begin (and this list is intentionally short given that we don't want to over-program anyone).

Plus, it's product show season for The Husband, and that means racking up a fair number of frequent flier miles over the next while. (He's in Quebec right now - je suis tres jalouse!)

Still, it's kind of nice to be starting back into the swing of things. The nights are cool but the days are burnished gold. The kids are at such fun ages and I'm really looking forward to this last year of elementary innocence.

As, clearly, are they:

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Return of the Mile Tracker!

Why is exercise always the first thing to go?

You know how it is - running/walking/team sports/swimming/whatever-it-is-you-do-to-get-the-ol'-heart-pumping makes you feel soooo good. You think, "I'm totally loving this and I'm going to do this every day and why didn't I change my life sooner?"

And then you buy a house and paint every night and move in and try to unpack and school ends and friends come over and there's important summertime fun to be had...

...and suddenly you realize you can count on one hand the number of times you've worked out in the past two three four months.

Fortunately, I've already discovered that the best way to return to a regular exercise schedule is FEAR. I signed up awhile ago for the TC-10, a 10-mile race at the beginning of October. Easy, I thought. I used to run 10 miles every Saturday - I'll train up through the summer and I'll be ready no problem.

See above for how successful I've been.

However, time marches on, and as the end of August approaches, I'm starting to feel very nervous. A handful of 3-mile runs is not going to get me up to speed (heh). I've slowly worked up the past couple of weeks, and yesterday I ran 6 miles for the first time since April, whoop!

It helped that I had these:

Sweet, yes? Don't know if you've seen all the fancy, need-to-wear-sunglasses running shoes that are popping up everywhere, but I've totally been obsessing over them for awhile now. Our new house happens to have a running store just around the corner (can I say again how much I love living here??) so we stopped in for a quick try-on yesterday and I came home with these.

Of course, I immediately headed out and totally kicked that 6 miles in the boo-tay. Yep, I'd say these babies are gonna give me exactly what I need for Operation: The-Race-Is-Only-How-Many-Weeks-Away??

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A Week of Mondays

Every summer since we moved here, starting about mid-June, whenever The Husband and I hear about a great restaurant or a summer blockbuster or some other less-than-kid-friendly activity, we look at each other and say, "Put it on The List."

As in, the list of super-awesome-fun-grownup-I've-got-time-to-linger-over-dessert-the-house-stays-clean-no-grocery-shopping-since-I-ain't-cooking activities that we put together for our annual Empty Nest Extravaganza.

THAT list.

The kids are up at "Grandma's Farm" this week and next, and as usual, it's the perfect way to end the summer. The grandparents get to love up their grandbabies and get nice and sick of the kids so that they can last until the next visit. The kids get the royal treatment and spend fun-filled days going on field trips and spending precious time with their cousins.

And we get to go to that amazing new restaurant everyone's talking about. And take in a concert down by the lake at the bandshell. And test drive cars. And catch up on 30 Rock without having to wait until the kids are put to bed.

Oh, and the projects! I have a nice long list of projects around the house that I want to get done without the littlekins around and The Husband has been forced upon penalty of me not coming on any test drives agreed to help me!

Of course, there's a downside (because the sunny side of the street makes me squint). When every evening feels like the weekend...

....every morning when I head in to work, it feels like Monday. Blech.

(Although, the flip side of that is that every bus ride home it feels like Friday afternoon again. So there's that.)

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A Week of Saturdays

Ahhhhhh.

It's vacation time at the PM house! And I'm sitting in my sunny sunroom, drinking coffee, blogging...and listening to the gentle pounding of the jackhammers outside tearing up my entire street.

But really, if you're going to have a week where you have no driveway access, this is the week to do it. We're doing the "staycation" thing (i.e. we bought a house and have no $$ to go anywhere this year). I'm hanging out with the kids all week and The Husband is taking off a couple of days later this week.

It's also not a bad thing to have some enforced down-time when you think of the summer the kids have had. They lurved their YMCA camps what with all the field trips and cookouts and tie-dyeing and GaGa Ball (The Boy's fave - it sounds like volleyball in a pit). But it's busy, and it means they get up earlier and return home later in summer than they do during the school year.

I kinda want them to get bored and even fight a little this week. That's what summer's all about, right? (Remind me I said that when I'm breaking up the umpteenth fight over the remote control today.)

Yesterday I finished my book and we walked down to the new gelato place (Black Cherry Zinfandel - wine in ice cream? Oh yes.). I've already been down to the lake for my run this morning, and today's agenda has only a pencilled-in "head down to the park with the wading pool." There's friends coming for supper to sit on the deck and watch the paving progress tonight. Tomorrow? Well, not really thinking about that yet....

It's a wide open week with only the odd commitment and otherwise vast, empty spaces on the calendar. Love it!

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Mail Call

Got a postcard today:

Hey Mom, Dad, and The Boy,

It's really fun here, even though its hot. The food is really good! We play camp games 2 a day! We have church services 2 a day. I like going swimming, but I like craft hill better. I have 9 cabin mates, 1 counselor and an LIT. We have Devos (Devotions) where there are 2 versions, cabin or self. I prefer cabin. Thanks for sending me to camp!

Excitedly,

The Girl

Ahh...that feels much better.

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Ohhhh, My Mama Heart

Just about broke it today.

The Girl left this morning for Bible Camp for the very first time. We've definitely been separated for this long before, but she's always been under the watchful eye of Grandma, so I sorta shrugged and yelled, "have a great time!" as I waltzed out the door.

This is entirely different. Now she needs to do so much by herself and for herself - sunscreen, bug spray, drinking enough water, eating her veggies...

...comforting herself (gulp - Mom Teddy, you'd better step up on this one).

Little Miss Independent has been bursting with excitement all week. This morning, she was still pretty pumped as we were waiting for her to be picked up:

But then those buses arrived. And all those kids started swarming. And she looked down at that big suitcase filled with enough clothes for Six. Whole. Days. And she looked up at me with wide, pleading eyes.

"Mom, I don't think I want to go to camp anymore. Can you take me home?"

GAH!!!

Holding my own tears back, I reassured her that all would be well and reminded her that Mom Teddy was always with her and that she has her church friend along who will be both bus buddy and cabin mate and that she'd have a great counsellor and super fun with all the crafts and activities.

So she gulped and nodded and put on her Brave Little Toaster face and marched right up to the bus attendant to give her name.

After which we had twenty minutes to chat through the open bus window waiting for the less timely parents and kids to slooooowly make it to the bus pickup area.

Super parenting fun time, thy name is standing vigil beside a girl who doesn't want to go to camp and is melting in triple-digit heat inside a schoolbus:

Let's get a closer look at that face brimming with excitement, shall we?

Sigh. She'll love it, I know. There's already FB pics up of her and her cabinmates and she's looking decidedly more cheerful. (Aside: Camp was definitely not as techsavvy in my day. The only way my parents knew I hadn't died on the way was when the phone call from the director didn't come.)

Now I just have to work at being a Brave Little Toaster myself. Saturday will be here before I know it - right?

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Project 164a: Closet Doors

The DIY flurry that is my house is starting to abate somewhat, but there's still a long list that we are sloooowly trying to tackle. Company one weekend and a quick trip up to Canada (heh heh, surprised my Mom for her birthday) were happily placed atop the to-do list, so we got a bit behind.

Caught up a bit this past weekend. The Husband reattached the soap holder to the shower tiles.

(She says she knows it wasn't an actual seat, but her feet were tired and she needed somewhere to sit so she could rest them.)

And I decided that 95 degree heat/ridonkulous humidity was the perfect time to paint some closet doors and shelves that are awaiting The Boy's final unpacking.

But before I could paint, we needed to plane the doors as they didn't slide quite right. Enter the world's cutest helper:

(His job was to hold the door steady while The Husband planed. That crazy hair of his pretty much acted like a spider web to all that sawdust. A sticky, sticky spider web.)

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