At what it takes to pull something like this off.
All for….him.
Oh, and we’re all still sleeping from our riotous evening…with the “boy who lived.”
Check back when we’re coherent.
Heh.
Go Harry.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz….
A Small Peek…
There Are No Words…
Mini Roadtrip
A Road Trip Tale
The other day, April called and said she needed to drive clear to the moon and back and did I want to come with her? You can’t actually make that long of a trip all by yourself, with two babies in the back seat. It’s not physically or emotionally possible without sacrificing a major portion of your sanity. Not smart either.
So, of course I wanted to come.
Besides the Logan trip is one of my personal favorites. Seriously, it’s quite a pretty, peaceful drive–as long as you can hand out fruit snacks to the two-year-olds in a timely enough fashion.
When we finally arrived at the shop, and April delivered her brand new quilt patterns, we decided that the day couldn’t possibly be over yet.
There was just more to see…and do…and buy…and…umm…nibble on.
So we scooted right on over to the Gossner’s cheese store, where we promptly bought out the rootbeer milk and squeeky cheese. No, there’s no more left. We got it all, so don’t even ask.
Still not satisfied–we kept right on driving until we reached the wicked, evil, marvelous, incredible cookie factory. I don’t have a picture of it for you because I was so excited to get there that my hands were shaking uncontrollably and it screwed up the picture.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
But this is what the car middle space looked like for the drive home. I don’t know exactly where all those ridiculous cookies and crackers came from. Perhaps the rapid intake of sugar impaired my memory some how. Pretty sure they were allll for the kids. {insert diabolical laughter}
It did make the drive home more interesting…that is until the sugar highs plunged down to the sugar lows. But never you fear. Because just as we were about to sink into the depths of much-too-much-junk-ism, we found a lonely little fellow at a roadside stand–with a fresh-picked supply of…
Autumn raspberries!! Oh happy day!
We were saved!
Now we could drive all the way home in corrected blood sugar level peace and safety…or something.
In fact, we bought so many raspberries that we could eat our fill and do it again and STILL have enough to share with the neighbors and all of you guys and the cat! We could send you all a package, just as soon as we got home. What a great idea. Watch for them in your mailbox.
Oh, sorry. Beckham said no.
The End.
Women Who Work
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 Saturday everyone.
The Pumpkinless Pie
My cute little daddy–in the middle, with the beard–had worked in a bakeshop of one kind or another, ever since he was about 8 years old. So, when he went into the Navy, it was only natural that he became a cook. To hear him talk, he must have loved it. One story that he told us when we were little, was of being on a battleship, somewhere out in the middle of the South Pacific on Thanksgiving Day.
He said the food was always as good as they could possibly make it, considering what they had to work with. But today, the guys were hoping for something more–anything that would make them feel just a little closer to those they loved back home.
Canned turkey was expected, along with some sort of dried bread stuffing and soggy vegetables, but what they all were missing the most, they said, was pumpkin pie. Of course there was no pumpkin–fresh or canned out in the middle of the ocean–during a war. But that wasn’t good enough for my smarty-pants dad.
He thought about it and thought about it and realized that cooked pumpkin, in many ways, is quite similar to…
carrots. Yesiree. Carrots.
So, while no one was looking, he cooked them up and added all the right spices, milk, and sugar. He said, that he found that if you treat a carrot like a pumpkin, it will act just like one. So when the “pumpkin” pie was served that day–it was perfect. Everyone thought it was a miracle or that pumpkins had just dropped out of the sky or something. They never knew. But they didn’t think too hard about it because they were way too busy being grateful for all their blessings…
and their amazing Superman cook–my cute little daddy….
who saved Thanksgiving Day.
And that’s the way he told it…
except for the Superman bit…that was all mine.
heh, heh.
