Night before last we were having dinner. The discussion turned to teeth, and my younger daughter asked whether she could get braces. We explained that first you have to lose all of your baby teeth, and as late bloomers (read: slow tooth losers), Continue reading “Crippled, handicapped or disabled?”
This month is a big one for my family. Not only are we celebrating my older daughter’s 14th birthday (HOLLA!) but that very same day marks five years since we first moved to Maine!
The chickens have been w/ us 7 weeks, and although confident in my ability to care for them, I’m still feeling like a teacher with a new class. I can identify two of the chickens (the larger and smaller black ones) but the other 4 red ones, forget it. I speak to them sweetly and try to be impartial. Ooooh aren’t you cute, mumblemumblemumble.. and YOU, soandso….
You’ve seen their house. Inside its confines they have an endless supply of food and we’ve taken to dishing out additional treats. Our chickens like table scraps.
I like to think of myself as a Renaissance woman. I know how to make doughnuts, I can install drywall, je parle un petit peu du francais. But there are a few things in life that leave me stumped. How to knit, for instance. How to dive without belly-flopping. And CARS. I know how to drive. I can parallel park, I know where the gas goes. I can check my oil and if truly hard-pressed I might be able to change a tire. But when it comes to the inner workings of an automobile, forget it.
It doesn’t help that cars nowadays are computers. I can’t fix my computer either, but I married an IT guy who sure can. My husband also can build and fix cars — but of the VW 70s variety, not these newfangled shiny whatsits you have to hook up to electronics to diagnose. Don’t get me wrong, my husband can fix A LOT of what goes wrong with our vehicles. But I think we’ve reached a point with Lil Blackie where professional resuscitation is in order.
Yeah yeah, I know I’m overdue for my weekly post. SO be it. It’s not like I’m sitting around on my duff (though I certainly am at this moment and BOY does it feel good). Listen, it’s hard finding time to write here when I spend most of the day in the kitchen and the rest wrestling crap out of the dog’s mouth.
So before Wipeout is over (I still have 17 mins) instead of some inspired something, or a blog post about the house, I am here to treat you with this:
Last week was Vacation Week here in Maine, known elsewhere as Spring Break. Some people travel, others enjoy local sites. But we opted for something else altogether. A “staycation” Dole House Style.
So strap on that respirator — Ain’t no party like a DOLE HOUSE PAR-TAY!