Here’s my to-do list from today, Sunday, the day of rest:

* finish take-home work [from the day job]
* clean kitchen
* clean bathroom
* grocery store
* transplant pumpkins and plant seeds
* budget
* finish article [from the not-day-job]
* make pizza dough
* organize paperwork
* write blog post

See where you are on that list, internet? Alllllll the way down at the bottom.  Sorry about that.  That’s kind of where the blog ends up these days, alllllll the way at the bottom of the list.  But Bubba’s been harassing me again, so I vowed that I wouldn’t let another weekend pass without writing something, anything, even if I had to skip both the budget and organizing paperwork to make the time.

I really don’t know how I will pull through the week without those two items, by the way.  If I wind up broke and on the evening news after being crushed by a stack of children’s drawings and old paystubs, I know exactly who I’m blaming.

Right, so anyway, here’s a quick, badly photographed of tour what we’ve been up to:

We spent a frightening amount of money on an enormous pile of dirt, which was unceremoniously dumped in our driveway.


Three year old included for size comparison.  Also because we couldn’t get her off the dirt pile.

We ostensibly are using the dirt to put in a garden.  Not in the driveway.  The garden is going further up the hill.  Because doesn’t hauling approximately 50 wheelbarrow loads of dirt up a hill so you can invest even more time and effort and money to grow food that sane people just get at the grocery store sound like a good time?  Yes, it does to us, too.

We also spent a day “helping” with a harbor clean-up.  It was “helping” instead of helping because we brought the kids, who spent all their time alternating stealing all the snacks and melting down.  Annabel also became quite enamored with the sea creatures who came up with the trash and were carefully collected to go back into the deep.  Here she is with her favorite, the tiny starfish.


See the purloined granola bar in her other hand?  That was her fourth or possibly fifth one.  I lost track after a while.

If you’d like to read the story about the people who actually helped instead of “helped”, click here.

Mother’s Day happened somewhere in there.  To celebrate, I forced everyone to go on a picnic at the beach because all I wanted was a chance to get a lovely portrait of my two children and freeze this portion of their childhoods forever in my mind.


That’s just about right.

To punish them, we had them forcibly removed from the home.


Admit it, you wish you’d thought of it first.

And finally, here’s what happens when:

1) You write a post about how much you miss the cherry blossoms in DC;

2) Bubba is your father-in-law.


That stick on the left there?  It’s a Japanese flowering cherry tree.  Because Bubba’s the kind of guy who, when you happen to mention offhandedly that you like something, will go out a buy you a tree.

(The stick on the right is a red maple.  It came free with the order.)

So that’s what’s going on here, in-between exciting bouts of bathroom cleaning and work overload.

Aren’t you sorry you’ve missed it?

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m afraid I’m going to have to go plant a tree in a giant dirt pile.  And then possibly go do the budget.  But probably not.

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