Pretense

Man on Tramp Action

The night of all of the swingin', the whole family was outside. 

Even Junie-girl.  

We enjoyed one another's company, watching the kids swing with their Dad (HI, BROCK!), and a fire. 

And until I saw this shot, I forgot there were s'mores.

I know mere s'mores don't explain the watch.

But this should.

While Jenna (HI, BOO!) and Motown Philly (HI, PHIL!) egged him on, Tom executed jump after jump for me. (HI, TOMMY! I'm still dizzy from watching you do these.)

Just so I could get this shot.

God bless boys who understand that fun is how you make it.

Good on ya, Tommy.

Nice Buns

Just A Swingin'

As the weather warms up, we're all outside more often.

These are the days that make living in the frozen-freaking-tundra worth it ten times over.

No one understands this more than children.

Specifically, my nephews.

One of the sweetest of pleasures is when we can be outside as the sun goes down.

Especially if it's outside and on the swing set.

Gavin, for example, finds it exhilarating.

Nolan agrees.

Being a Dad, Brock has fun, but in a more Dad-like fashion. 

By making sure everybody else is having fun. 

And keeping an eye on everybody at once. 

Like this sweet little nugget of a boy, for example.

We still don't know who was keeping an eye on Auntie Jenna. 

 In the next post, you'll see what Uncle Tom was up to.

For now, let's just say that kid is CRAZY flexible.

See you back here soon!

Fields, Drips and Toilet Seats

There is a field along I29 in North Fargo that I love.

I've been meaning to stop for ... oh, about six years now, with the idea to stop and snap a few photos.

It's beauty always grabs me.

Sometimes it's foggy.

Sometimes cows are grazing.

Sometimes it's holding up a sunset.

And sometimes it's just still.

I love it in all its forms.

The tree line along the avenue is gorgeous, and I've always wondered what lay on the other side, hidden from view as I drive to and from work and all points southwest.

Turns out, it was a gate.

And another treeline.

And apparently, a discarded toilet seat.

Who knew?

Realizing the field shots weren't really that interesting, I glanced around for inspiration.

It wasn't until the drive out that I noticed the dripping.

Ladies and gentlemen?

I give you ... the dripping.

After that toilet seat, I bet you were worried about exactly what was dripping, weren't ya?

You're welcome.

When Amos Attacks

Amos has a very specific foot-attacking methodology.

First, he tests each foot. 

Presumably, this is for tenderness.

Or perhaps for mobility. 

(Ya gotta choose the slower limb when you're little and the chosen limbs are bigger than you.)

Then he braces himself against the rejected limb, and begins to gnaw on whatever's at the end of the limb he has deemed worthy. (foot, hand, head ... it doesn't much matter)

(note the amount of top left fang, and how much of it is buried)

Once he gnaws on the target, and it's the desired consistency (ground beef, for example), he abandons the rejected foot, swings his rear legs to the front, and adds the age-old 'rabbit kick' technique to the beatdown. 

Eventually, your screams of anguish break through his focus, and he conveys the one and only thought in his mind at that moment.

What's wrong?

Damn cat.

Just What I Needed

Now, I'm not a fan of talking about the weather.

It's petty.

And pointless.

The weather is the weather. Deal with it.

That said, I have to talk about the weather to talk about where I want to go with this.

Last week, the weather got downright summer-like.

Temps in the 70's, and sunshine that is very much the light at the end of the tunnel after even the shortest of a winter here in the Northland.

It made all of us think spring had fast-forwarded and that summer was upon us.

There was grilling.

And shorts-wearing.

The number of pedicures skyrocketed.

Yard work was attacked with a joyful vengeance.

(There wasn't yard work at my house. If you thought that was possible, you're clearly drunk or new here.)

Since I was (am?) recovering from pneumonia, and Lee himself was ill and taking care of me, none of the above happened in our house.

(But especially not the yard work. Seriously.) <shudder>

One of those glorious days happened to be my first day back to work in a week.

As I settled in to my office, I was warmed to the bone by sunlight steaming through the windows.

And I had the place to myself.

So I did what any red-blooded girl would do in the same circumstances.

I picked a favorite Spotify playlist and turned it up.

I grabbed an enormous stack of mail and my letter opener, and headed to the meeting table next to the window.

And made myself a glass of iced tea.

Those were the best 15 minutes I've ever given myself.

All with just a hint of mint.