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Category: Learning Curve

Yard, We Will Conquer Thee!

I’ve mentioned before (do you remember that post? Just in case you forgot, oh dear and loyal reader, click here) that David and I are attempting to throw a landscaping coup: get rid of the old leader, Dictator Daylily McWeedsalot, and establish a new, kindler, gentler establishment for the asesthetic betterment of our family. As I may have also previously implied, this endeavor is sort of like deciding to go hot air-ballooning only to realize once you’re already up in the air that a) you’re terrified of heights, b) if you fall, there’s nothing but a desert full of hard sand and prickly cactus waiting to ruin your fun, and c) it’s a much better idea if somebody else captains the large pocket of hot air that keeps you alive and just allows you to enjoy the view.  Which is how it went for us when we did go ballooning many moons ago, but that’s not we’re talking about today. No, today we’re giddy about… …gardening! If the past few weeks are any indication, it looks like our summer’s…

Honey, You’re 18: Thighs Don’t Matter

David had to meet up with some work people tonight, so after dinner (take-out, because it’s Saturday and because I just didn’t feel like it), I took SK and the Mighty Quinn to get some ice cream.  We were sitting on a bench when I noticed two high school girls giggling by the shop’s front window. My eye caught them because one girl was wearing a “Seniors 2011” shirt, and I was trying to figure out which high school she attended, and the other had her skirt hiked so far up her torso that at first I thought it was a second shirt. (Now, you know that skirt wasn’t that high before she left her parents at the house…I hope.) As I watched, another small herd of girls approached them. They must’ve been friends, but this is the coversation that played out in front of us: Girl A, approaching:  “Stop looking at my thighs! You’re looking at my thighs!” Girl B, texting: “Yeah, I’m looking at your thighs!” Girl A, laughing: “Stop looking at my thighs…

Yes, I’m Comparing My Girls to the Duchess of Cambridge

Because I had to tear myself away from all the glory and splendor that was the wedding-across-the-way (and yes, the scones were awesome, thankyouverymuch), my bleary-eyed self took the girls to their music class today. After all my immersion into the vicarious world of fascinators and morning suits and open-topped carriage rides (did you notice how Catherine–sorry, the Duchess of Cambridge–bowed her head every time her husband saluted? How often did they have to practice that?), it took me awhile to adjust to all the freedom and joyous do-what-you-will that is Music Together on a Friday morning. I’ve been taking Saoirse–and now, the mighty Quinn, too–to this class since she was about a year old. It’s more of a music appreciation program, and quite honestly, I break a sweat every time I write the check for it, because it’s that expensive. But I can’t stop signing ’em up, even if it we can’t make our electric bill that month (no, I’m just kidding. We just stop using lights after 8 pm…