I’m Thinking…

that you can never get enough kissy lips stick-ons.

that sweet little samples are the best–especially when they come from one of our sponsors, like Sarah Naturals. Check it out–Rose Face Cream- for sensitive skin, Calendula Ointment for rashes and wounds, and licorice lip balm—ummmm…heavenly I tell you.

that it’s probably too late to plant this stuff already. Am I right? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?…..Bueller?

that somebody over at the Cadbury kitchen is a genius…again.

that you can improve the entire molecular structure of a ham sandwich by simply adding pickles.

that anyone clever enough to take a nice, non-blurry picture of their own favorite pink snow boots really should be called a “big girl”

…maybe.

that this dude’s letter writing skills are very good for a weepy mama’s heart–and at least he doesn’t fold the pictures in half…anymore.  Silly boy.   :+

that I might just have my two year supply of  Hello Kitty stickers with which to decorate the above Dude’s letters.

Hey, he likes it.

that the new improved Strawberry Shortcake is growing on me–but I admit, I do miss the pretty little dresses she used to wear.

that my Navy-man Daddy would absolutely faint if he saw what we’re nibbling on around here–not because we have no choice–but just for fun!

that little kids with kind, sweet Uncles are lucky souls…

indeed.

:}

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Little Miss No Name

As some of you may remember–I’ve written many posts about my childhood dolls because I was just crazy about them and even gave a prize if someone could name them all. Yesiree–I was totally in love with dolls. In fact, I used to believe that as soon as I fell asleep at night, they all came to life and played in my room with the other toys.

One year I saw a commercial for a doll that was really, really…um…not very pretty. Actually she was positively scary looking. But in my nine year old mind I was convinced that no one on earth would ever buy her or ask for her for Christmas–and that made me very sad–indeed.

The idea of her sitting for a million years in a toy store with no one ever taking her home made me sick. I thought about it and thought about it and came to the conclusion that the only Christian thing to do was to ask for her for my own birthday so she could finally have a home and I could give the poor thing some love. It would change her life–I knew it!

My mom asked me over and over if I was sure she was the doll I really wanted–and over and over I said, “She’s the only one I want.”

So Little Miss No Name is exactly what I got. I loved her and changed her clothes and put her hair in pony tails but no matter how hard I tried, she still made that same sad face. I decided that giving her a good home was the least I could do even if it never really made her happy.

I’ve kept her all these years and never had a minute of regret over choosing the poor little wretched thing. That is, until my brother’s mean old friend told me that my sweet, humanitarian-service-project-of-a-doll looked exactly…

like…

me.

Rats.

How do these things happen?

Before you judge me too harshly, check out the most emotionally manipulative commercial on the planet.

Little Miss No Name

Little Miss No Name

 

The Random Road

When you blog like some kind of maniac, it is really hard not to take pictures of every single thing you think is remotely interesting, odd, beautiful or just plain nuts. The problem with that is that then, you have to find a place to use all those wildcat photos that don’t really connect to anything—just to prove that there was a point to you taking the shot in the first place.

This is that post. Be brave.

We pulled into a gas station in a remote little place and right behind it was an old school–I couldn’t really tell if it is abandoned or still in use. To tell the truth–it was more the birds that caught my attention. It was a swarm I tell you and we were completely ready to barricade ourselves in the car if they changed directions. It was a bit Hitchcock-type creepy.

Sign on a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Makes you wonder if this is some kind of combo meal or something. I don’t want to know what the burger is made out of. Yikes.

 

Just thought this one was kinda cute.

Please, please will somebody explain this road sign to me? M-1/4 ? Are they kidding? Is it some kind of Algebra problem or what?

And here we have L-7/10 Road. Um, yeah. Stop the madness or get help.

Seriously.

Off to our left was a huge mountain that honestly looked like a big pencil sketch…or sand castle. Either one…or both.

While pulling into a quaint little quilt shop I spotted this teeny tiny man carrying a laundry basket down the street and it struck me as funny. Pretty sure he was a regular sized man, but what’s with the laundry basket? Just saying…

This is said “quaint little quilt shop.” Hen House Quilts and Gifts was a lovely break from that long old road.  One or two of us spend a ridiculous amount of money here. There’s no explanation for it other than craziness…or eccentricity. Likely both. Dang fun though.

Pretty little farm house with a pretty little porch that I wanted to pick up and fly to my town. If only those trees weren’t in the way–we could actually see it.

Not such good news–but luckily, we had no intention of going that way anyhow. Take that–Berthoud Pass.

What? Really? Was someone playing a prank here?

I wasn’t fooled.

Then, from out of nowhere–buckets of snow came dumping down on us…with no warning.

Wellllll…maybe a little warning.

Dicey driving for the next 30 miles, but then, just as quickly as the storm came on…

it shut back down and we rode off serenely into the sunset…and our place.

Home again, home again,

jiggity jog.

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This Moment…

A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from our lives.

A simple, special, memorable moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and keep close to my heart.

If you are inspired to do the same–leave us a link in the comments.

Happy weekend everyone.

Baby Cave Dweller

I read once that if an adult tried to follow a toddler around and mimic all of the things that they do…

in one 12 hour period, that the grown-up would only last about 45 minutes…

then drop into an exhausted heap on the floor panting and gasping for air.  Oh, I believe it all right.

Our little pixie is flitting from one thing to another at positively lightening speed–but what I don’t get is…

how do they fit all that energy into so many tight little spaces?


Never mind.

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