Thankful Day~

Rhen ran off early on Thanksgiving morning to play football with the big boys. Of course, I snuck (is that a word?) away quietly after him to take a few pictures. Trouble is, they played on a field soooo dang far away that I couldn’t even tell which moving blur was actually him. After zooming in about eight-hundred-million times, it turns out that he is the guy on the far right. Seriously couldn’t tell…so I went home.

And it was a good thing too, because the Macy’s Parade was on–and you know I don’t want to miss that. I positively LOVE it. In fact, someday–I’d like to be sitting in one of those hotel rooms watching the parade from the window, like the little girl does in Miracle On 34th Street. Mmmmm…that would be awesome.

Bucket List for sure.

Blondie was pretty excited about the Sesame Street float…

and Rhen started shrieking when he saw these guys. No earthly idea why.

Later that day, we zipped off to April and Jacobs for the real-deal-meal. Petra is hoping Jacob drops some of the turkey he’s carving. No chance, chicky. Turkey is bad for doggies. But the humans are going to LOVE it.

That, and every other dang thing on the table. Yummo. Come to me mashed potatoes, I have big plans for you. Heh, heh.

Oh, wait. There’s a cat in my seat. Down Buttercup. You ain’t having my turkey either.

The kids made these oh-so-adorable place cards so we’d all know where we were going. Good thing, too cause I wouldn’t want to get lost on a day like today…

and with a plate full of scrumptiousness. Stuf-fing–stuf-fing–stuf-fing…

Guess the kids knew that Rhenny-boy likes bananas.

Such a good, good day.

Even had a bit of after dinner entertainment. That is suppose to say, “Ready for some haunted adventures and excitement?” So cute. It turned out to be a couple kids walking around under blankets while the other ones threw pillows at them. Spooky indeed.

Several people were asked to bring pie. I’d say it was a successful adventure. Hmmmm…where to start? Where to start?

One of each ought to do it.

And The Wall~

came tumbling down!

So as it happens in projects such as these, we started talking about how much more open the kitchen would feel if it were…ummm… you know, open. So one thing led to another and before we knew it, the wall was down. Just like that.

Crow bars and sledge hammers seem to be these guys’ best friends.

Kind of exciting to see things just wished for one moment…

and coming true the next.

This place is awesome. This disappearing wall is awesome.

These guys are awesome!

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White Washing the Family Room

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Ahhh…bless you Pinterest, for sparking my imagination, when sincerely–I was happy with the brown paneling.

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Ok, well, happy isn’t completely, one hundred percent honest.

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I don’t mind admitting that I am just so thrilled to be in the place where I have some kind of house–at all–that it doesn’t really matter to me if it isn’t entirely perfect. I’m grateful and happy to make do.

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But after spending a bit of time seeing the “Dark Paneling Makeovers” that are on the internet everywhere these days, I will admit–a few coats of white paint wins. Hands down.

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It has taken a bit of doing though. Primer, more primer, and then several coats of paint. It will indeed be perfect when we’re finished.

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And going from this…

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to this–as unfinished as it is…

is a huge improvement. Wouldn’t you say?

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I’m deeply grateful to my kind and generous worker bees who seem to have so much happy energy.

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Thank you. Thank you.

It’s going to be awesome!

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Happy 4th of July!!

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Of course, everyone celebrates holidays in their own family fashion–but this one, for us, simply needs to include a big pile of the day-time, mostly kid-friendly fireworks. You know, tanks, parachutes, crackly bombs, snakes, poppers,  and…

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smoke bombs. I know, you were thinking that I’d show a picture of the actual smoke coming out of that silly little thing–weren’t you? Yeah, well, every time I tried to take a picture, the colored smoke that the kids have LOVED for a million years–was gone in like 4 seconds. I’m not kidding. Is it just me or were some of the fireworks way, WAY shorter and smaller and…ummm, dare I say–cheaper this year? Hmmmm….

But I digress.

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My cute little pyros still enjoyed themselves lighting every possible combustible thing in site.

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Then came the Tank war–and the rock-paper-scissors to see who would go first.

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Bald guy won.

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Probably, if you want the best tank war pictures on the face of the earth, you should give the camera to a crazy teen-aged boy who has no fear of losing an eye or a couple of fingers.

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That ain’t me baby.  So, you’ll have to believe it when I tell you that it was epic. Except for the fact that THIS year, the tanks didn’t shoot 18 inches of sparkly flames AND they didn’t have wheels. Seriously, firework people?! How can you have a tank battle when nothing moves. Good grief.

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At least we had pizza and that made it all better.

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And I finally got a shot of the smoke bombs–that shall henceforth be known as smoke WHISPS. Let’s be accurate.

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The baby boy had a lovely time and didn’t even have to cover his ears for most of it, and he even caught a couple of parachutes. I was too busy clapping to get a picture of that–sorry.

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The big boy had a marvelous time too because, well…because he was setting things on fire and that’s really all it takes for a grown-up-little boy to find pure unadulterated joy. You know it’s true.

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Everyone left at dusk to go to the Cul-de-sac of Fire up the street…

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 but I found that from the yard, the view was perfect…

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and I didn’t have to deal with ashes in my face…

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or tiny pieces of cardboard landing on my head.

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Of course, from my very own bed worked nicely too.

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My Little Helper

The House

While I was looking at the real estate For Sale site the other day, Miss Chompy came in and asked what I was doing. I said, I’m looking for a house that I can live in someday.

Pointing to the home on the computer screen, she said, “That one’s nice. You should buy it.”

I said, “Yeah, but I have to save up a ton of money first. Even small houses cost a lot.”

She got all excited and ran out of the room calling back, “Don’t worry, Grammy. I’ll help you!”

The sweetheart came back with the penny jar and this sign.

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Ummmm….

thanks, honey.

I think.

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