Leftovers

For Uncle Andster, Aunt Wendy, & Co.:
Millie shows off her warm brownie. (She shared it equally.)

 

For Uncle Luke (YOU KNOW WHY):

I found Ezekiel thusly one morning when he was suspiciously quiet.  Yes, that's a sugar bowl, Mister.

Our last hurrah in the garden before winter whooshed in with a vengeance involved woolly bears, layers of dirt from the neck down, and a lovely row of garlic that John planted in the knick of time.

John Wayne waiting in the early morning sun.

One of many snowy days.

Annie took this picture of our back door.  The girls love it when this happens.  We're snowed in....FOREVER!

I took this picture of Pip because one blizzard-filled morning, I watched her meander outside like this before she came back in and exclaimed in surprise, "Oh!  I forgot to put on boots!"  (Phil and Heidi can easily believe this, I bet.)

A common view from the kitchen window:

A common view first thing in the morning:

Playmobil villages: a common sight all of the time.







Of his own volition, a good, little boy will fetch the broom and dustpan when he spills the crispy oats.  Then, when he lacks the finesse to use the broom, he'll use his fingers, instead.  (Given my scant knowledge of boys, I'm not counting on this being anything other than a one-time behavorial anomaly.)








Millie made some big, clip-on earrings just for Zeke.  He loved them for about 3 seconds.






I saved the best for last.  One of the girls wanted to take this picture of the meal they made and served me one night when John was working.  I'd painfully ruptured a varicose vein a couple of hours before while jumping off a tall, kitchen stool I'd hauled outside to lazily use instead of a ladder while I nailed a Christmas wreath to the house-- deep breath--, and I was doing what I could to avoid going to the walk-in, which I had to do when I ruptured another varicose vein when I was pregnant with Luci and a stray dog pulled me whoomp! to the ground-- deep breath-- which included but was not limited to putting on compression stockings, wrapping my leg with ace bandages, icing the area, and wearing John's pajama pants, all without removing the winter coat I'd been wearing when the incident occurred.

The meal was a royal feast of apple slices, milk, and air-popped popcorn. I should rupture those ugly veins more often. (Aren't I elegant?)

Never mind.  This one's the best.  I've given Piper very little writing instruction, so what she does is on her own, for the most part, and relies on phonetics.  One day last fall, I wrote a sentence in her play notebook for her to read.  Half an hour later, I saw she had written-- and erased-- a "naughty" word below.  The juxtoposition of the two made me laugh.