Outings

(Heh. Had to type that title three times. I kept typing "poutings".)

So, Zorak and I have initiated Project Forward Motion. There's too much that needs to be done aside from the balcony. The balcony is not being as cooperative as it ought to have been, and so, not much else has been done. That needs to stop. The lower meadow and barn areas look like staging for Jurassic Park. The garden beds are more like low-budget miniatures for the aerial scenes. Ew.

The kids and I put the bumper buddy on the Suburban and headed down to the local feed shop. I love this place. Their prices are reasonable. Their staff is helpful. They have fantastic wooden chairs and benches out front. And they have moonpies, which, rumor has it, if the kids ingest enough of those before they turn 18, will bestow upon the children magic "from here" status. Yesiree, gotta love the local feed shop.

We bought five fly strips (I know, ew, but the flies have been horrible this week, and if we've got to look at them, we'd rather they be imobile), some grass seed (in bulk, how cool do I feel now? To keep the clover at bay near the house so James doesn't puff up like a bloodshot Michelin Man), three bales of wheat straw (for mulch), a gazillion packets of seeds for the salad bed (plus sunflowers for the sunflower house, and a stray packet of random flowers because Smidge said he wanted to grow them for me, and that just totally melted my little stressed-out, grinch-like heart). Oh, and I reserved a watering trough. Heh. Now I feel very cool, indeed. Of course, it's mostly just for washing the dog, right now. But someday we'll have something that will want to drink out of it, and then we'll have it.

We came home, mowed the upper meadow, weeded the salad bed, and then headed out to the fields. James had practice. Smidge had a game. I skipped James' practice in order to watch Smidge's game. Oh, how *cute* are 20 four-year-olds scampering around after the World's Slowest Moving Ball? Throw in the little matching outfits, and it's like watching dress rehearsals for a Dick Van Dyke musical. Simply fantastic. Another win. More nax. Then we hung out at the park for half an hour and let them run in circles and use their outside voices.

John, who is tumbling headlong into Young Man-Hood, leapt from the car before I had the keys out, and worked on the upper meadow some more. Wow. That lawnmower is still almost as big as he is, and yet he gets on it and gets the job done. Zorak made awesome salmon patties, and then we all crashed. Hard. As a matter of fact, the typos are only getting worse and more difficult to spot, so I'm going to stop now. But thank you for your encouraging words this morning. I can't tell you how glad I am to know that 1) the kids won't remember, 2) I'm not the only one, 3) this, too, shall pass. You're the best, you know that?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy