Happy Father's Day!

Three generations of granola.

Chatter: *frowny face*

You know it's a bad day when two mentions of extreme escape are made in one sitting . . .


First Mention

Person 1: "So, yeah, I'm heading up that project. *sigh* "
Person 2:"Let me know if I can help with that."
Person 1: "You can help me by putting my car in neutral and pushing it off the top of the parking garage."

Second Mention

Person 3: "Woah, that was a bright camera flash!"
Person 4: "Yeah, kind of like that 'Men in Black' thing that makes you forget everything."
Person 1: "I wish. Then maybe we could start with a clean slate and life would be worth living again."

Queue 'Debbie Downer' sound effect . . . . NOW!

Thomas the Crank

I haven't posted anything about our trip to the Heber Creeper a couple of weeks ago for "Day Out With Thomas" because I've only NOW decompressed from the amount of anxiety and crankiness I experienced while navigating the biggest preschooler clusterfuck known to man.

I still feel like I owe my mom and sister a public apology for being so tightly wound that day. (Sorry, guys!) Anyway, we mostly had an okay time, and Patrick enjoyed himself, which was the entire reason we went, so that's good. Still, the outing was nicely summed up with the wise words of my mom: "Well, I think we've had all the fun we can stand. Shall we go?"

Liz, P and Nana on the train. He's a little unsure.

He finally got up the nerve to look out the window and gave me a fantastic profile shot.

Enjoying himself.

P and me. See his retro-looking Thomas shirt? (Thank you, Target)


Nana and P deep in thought about The Industrial Revolution.


The only thing creepier than Sir Topham Hatt's lack of facial definition? The staggering number of chunky, highlighted, teased, severely stacked bobs we observed.
(I didn't even mean to get these two rather tame versions into the photo - but there they are, flanking Sir T.H. so nicely)

I told Matt that next year he gets to take Patrick up there - it can be a BOYS Day Out with Thomas! And Mama will stay home and have a cocktail (or five).

Chatter: Happy Flag Day!

"I like to have my own personal flag up on all flag-flying holidays well before the god damn boy scouts get their little asses out of bed. You see, our boy scout neighborhood shits have the nerve to ask for a $50.00 donation/year to put a flag in your yard. Of which, if the holiday falls on a Sunday - NO FLAG. We told them to F-OFF. They took it well."

*Editor's note: This chatter was via e-mail. And it's the best e-mail I've received in weeks. Actually, months.