Monday, June 27, 2011
This is the Red River. Or maybe it's Lake Red River now. I'm not sure. I just know there is entirely more water here than there should be. And it's been here for months.
These are your normal, every day sort of signs. Taller than me and planted three or four inches from a lazy, winding walking trail leading fisherfolks and river gazers down to where the Red usually flows.
Water grazes the bottom of the bridge. I keep trying to think of something clever to say about this, but keep coming back to what I really think when I see this, and that is, simply, YIKES.
Having grown up in the desert, I had no idea mile markers on waterways existed. (BeeTeeDubs, the look on the face of the lady driving that car coming toward me as I pulled my camera back to my body from having dangled it on the other side of the railing was priceless. I laughed at the expression of horror on her face. Until I realized my husband would no doubt have the same look were he seeing me and my photographic shenanigans. HI, HONEY!)
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
In our neighborhood, the kids are still kids.
It's one of my favorite things about this area.
Kids around here still do lemonade stands, they still pull weeds for money, and—apparently—they still put on shows in their backyards.
Even better is that even though they all likely have Facebook accounts, they still communicate the old-fashioned way: with handmade flyers.
I found this little beauty on our front doorstep yesterday afternoon.
I especially love the rock holding it down. These kids are thinkers, and this is Fargo, after all—our weather isn't exactly known for its consistent nature.
Here's hoping you get invited to something spectacular soon, and in such a manner.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
For decades, this summer-weight blanket comforted me.
My mother made it, a diaper bag and a headscarf for herself (there may have even been a dress for me in there) when I was an infant.
Closing in on forty, it--like me--began to show the wear and tear only true love can impart. Split bindings, seams coming apart, the backing wearing thin with what looked like fabric's equivalent to stretch marks revealed the cold, hard truth. Raggedy was good and ragged.
Inspired by my budget-wise, domestic Goddess of a best friend here in Fargo, (HI, CRYSTAL!) I bought this luxurious-feeling chenille fabric when it was on sale for 40% off, used a coupon on the binding tape and thread, and planted my feet to take on an ACTUAL sewing project.
I got as far as the dining room window, holding the blanket to the light, when I realized there was no way on God's green Earth I, Laura Egland, would ever have the patience or skill to sew those rounded seams ... nor was I about to spend a month with a seam ripper to redefine them.
'Good thing my mother-in-law makes Martha Stewart look like a crack whore.
So here we are. My favorite blanket, restored to its former glory but with an, "I live in Fargo and it gets ass-cold here" twist.
I couldn't be happier.
Between my blanket and my cookie jar, I'm set.
Friday, June 17, 2011
|Ever seen a teepee? I thought not! 'Turns out, you can sleep in one in the Hualapai Mountain Park outside of Kingman, AZ. They had about four of them, all up on these platform doohickeys.|
|I thought for sure they were going to smell mildewy and be icky inside. They did not!|
|Were you to lay your head at the back of the structure, this would be your view out the front.|
|Never one to miss an opportunity to explore different angles, I chose to investigate the view looking straight up. I still wonder what it would look like at night.|
I got to spend a few hours with some short people. Every time I see these little guys, I make plans to steal them. Of course, I'd want to be rescued after a day, but still. Look at these faces!
This is Brent. I asked him to see if he could tell what was inside my camera making that noise. He looked long and hard, thinking through each and every move I made and how it changed what he was hearing and seeing. Once he figured out I really just wanted photos of his sweet face, he started hamming it up but good.
Devin was a little tougher. I had to tell him I had a bug in my eye and tell him the only way I thought he could see it was through the camera. He was skeptical.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I have a stash of photos for "in case I forget a day" situations. This doesn't seem to hold a lot of integrity for me, though, so I'm purging. Let my purge be your victory. (The word according to Laura. You may be seated.)
|I thought this was such a sweet scene. I'm sure these complete strangers don't mind me posting their photo on my website. I figure if I say "whoops" and whistle like I was mindin' my own beeswax, it's all fair ... and likely square, as well.|
|The maple in my backyard. I want to hug it. Ah, hell. Who are we kidding? I DO hug it!|
|Speakin' of Mike ... I came home from a hissy fit drive (what, like you never have?) to find him in the garage, listening to country music and burning shit while sitting on an inverted bucket. THAT'S MY BOY!|
|Mid-hissy fit, I saw this rainbow. I stopped raving to myself and crying, turned on the engine and went home. Some things you just don't piss on. A promise from the Big Dude is one of them.|
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
I love iced coffee.
And when I say, "love," I really mean, "I want to hump the face of the guy who figured out that coffee can be iced and jacked up with sugar and something creamy."
Why, yes. Yes I DID indeed just say that.
Extreme? Ppfffft! Not if you're me. And coffee. Or Nancy Botwin.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
'Ria came by this morning, insisting we go garage sale-ing.
While out, I spied this and stopping dead in my tracks.
It's the cookie jar from my childhood.
I purposely left my wallet at home, and now I was faced with this. Something I wanted. Nay, I NEEDED.
Clutching it to my chest, I turned to 'Ria.
"Maria, will you please buy me a cookie jar?"
"Sure sweetie," came the reply.
And with tears in my eyes and a large lump in the my throat, I said thank you.
You know. Because cookie jars will do that to you.
(Thank you, Maria. I love you, too.)