Happy Dad's Day!

Laughter. I grew up with so much laughter in our house. There was also a lot of dancing, mostly to Motown and classic rock. Girl talk...SO MUCH girl talk, and all of the things that come with raising two little girls- dress up, hairdos, My Little Ponies...

I'm sure that anyone on the outside looking in at our family dynamic had to think, "That poor Ben, surrounded by estrogen!" In truth, he was. Just about every pet we ever owned was a female. He was literally surrounded by the female race.

I can't count how many times, my dad sat in the floor with us and played my favorite game- Pretty Pretty Princess. Basically, for those of you who have never played it, it consists of dressing yourself in gaudy, plastic, costume jewelry including a tiara and dangly earrings. If you landed on the black diamond, you had to start over which meant taking off all of your jewelry! I dreaded the black diamond...Looking back, I bet Dad prayed he would land on the black diamond...

He let us put sponge rollers in his hair, and helped pick out dresses for our stuffed animals- while we watched movies like the Carebears and My Little Ponies. Never once complaining!

I eventually grew into somewhat of a tomboy. Dad got me to fall in love with sports,  Star Wars, and good music (like James Taylor and The Rolling Stones). And my sister grew to love golf, Dad's favorite pastime. I know he loved this phase of our lives, and finally having some things in common with his little girls. But sometimes I can't help but think he misses the plastic dangly earrings and puffy slips (even if he won't admit it).

Dad taught me how to mow the lawn, how to rip up tile floors, how to punch boys when they were inappropriate, and how to dance like Bill Cosby, (seriously, my husband has my father to thank for my embarrassing dance moves.)

He taught me to act silly and not take life too seriously. To this day, I blame my ability to make a complete fool of myself and not feel any shame or embarrasment, on him.

This would be the previously mentioned dance moves...and also
the not taking life too seriously

In so many ways I am so much like Dad. We share the same sense of humor, the same explosive temper (which is always followed by the ability to forgive quickly), taste in music, inability to refill the toilet paper roll, and a love of Jack Daniels and good cigars.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope you have a happy Father's Day, Dad. So much of who I am is because of you, whether you like it or not. You're the best Poppa a girl could ask for....even if you did trip me that time i was trying to be a graceful ballerina! :)

Ode to a Friend

It has been 137 days since I started writing on this blog. ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN. I have written about politics, religion, day-to-day life, disasters, and relationships. The last of which I have covered fairly extensively. But there is one relationship that I haven't yet mentioned, and its one of the most significant ones in my life.

Growing up, we moved around some. I had lived in 3 different towns before 8th grade. It was rough at times. I made friends everywhere that we went, and then would eventually have to leave them. I have stayed in touch with several of them, not great touch, but enough to check in a couple times a year or so (even if its just to say Happy Birthday on facebook.)

So when we got back to Duncan, my parents assured me we would be here until I graduated. I had 5 years to build friendships before leaving for college. Honestly, I was pretty nervous. I knew high school was going to be a tough few years, and by 8th grade everyone seemed to have settled into their groups. What I hoped for more than anything was a friend who could have my back during all the rough teenage years ahead.

I met some fun girls when school started. Being in sports definitely helped. It helped even more when someone finally invited me to sit at their lunch table after weeks of going home for lunch to eat chicken salad sandwiches (my favorite) with mom and dad.

By the time I was leaving Middle School it seemed I had a pretty solid group of friends to head into the next phase of life with. (I had no idea how much this group would change through the high school years). Nonetheless, I was feeling comfortable and not alone.

I had also started spending some time in a youth group, and had made some friends there too. There was one guy in particular that I meshed well with. He was a couple of years older, and the sole reason we started spending time together was because a friend of mine had a crush on him. We hung out quite a bit, and with the help of MSN instant messenger got to know each other fairly quickly. I had expressed how nervous I was to start high school. He assured me it would be fine. In a matter of words, he said he would have my back.

I had no idea how true of a statement that would become.

I was right in my assumption that high school was going to be hard. But he was holding up to his end of the bargain. He completely had my back, and because of that I looked up to him almost immediately. I had never had a brother, but I felt certain this was close, not exactly the same...but very close.

Throughout the next couple of years he became a solid structure in my life. As we all know, young teen girls are not the most stable of human beings, and I was no exception. I can't count how many late nights he spent talking me through a break up, calming me down after a girl friend had stabbed me in the back, or convincing me that I was not making the smartest of decisions. He was a sane voice in my whirlwind of poor choices and terrible boyfriends.

Let's be honest, I can pretty much attribute the fact that I am not married to a convicted felon, or a cheating douchebag to his intervening. I must say, at the time I was not pleased with some of his interventions, but looking back...THANK GOD he did.

Don't get me wrong, he made his fair share of poor decisions...and dated some real winners. We made it through all that, too.

The time came for him to graduate, and I was terrified. I still had two years left in high school and wasn't sure how well I'd survive without my new found brother. I put his picture in the dashboard of my car, and there it stayed until I left for college.

Thankfully, he came home a lot those couple of years. He didn't miss any of the big stuff. La Fiesta for our birthdays, both of my proms, and of course my graduation. More than the actually showing up, he was available for a lot of distraught phone calls and text messages as well.

This is one of my favorite pictures, I think this would be referred
to as "foreshadowing." **ahem** meaning the two sitting together at the end
of the table....well, we'll get there.

Somehow, I survived high school. The next thing to tackle was college. It got tough sooner than I thought it would. I had decided I wanted to be in a sorority, or at least I thought I did. Halfway through rush I realized it wasn't for me, and dropped out. I was pretty upset, realizing I was a long ways from home and feeling lost as to what I was suppose to do with myself.

The next day he got a phone call. On the other end of the call was me and I was in tears, so he invited me down to Edmond to spend a few days. (Little did he know I was already in the car headed that way). A few days of friend time was all it took to feel like I was back on track and I headed back to start college!

Sorry bud, I wish I had better pictures from that trip... :)

The next few years our friendship continued. It was mostly from a distance. He moved back to Duncan to finish school. I was in Stillwater, then Colorado, then Oklahoma City. (These were somewhat of my gypsy years.) We didn't see each other very often. But he still got the phone calls. Most of the time they were ridiculous middle of the night calls when I found myself in a predicament. Still though we got together for the BIG stuff. Like the day I finally got my dream car...

Life threw some crazy twists and turns. Christmas of 2009 was no exception. He was over for family time that evening, nothing out of the ordinary, when I noticed he and my sister being extra chummy. Actually, Justin noticed and i blew it off, thinking my sister and my brother? Yeah right.

I couldn't have been more wrong. Something had sparked.

After a few months of dating, I got the phone call. He wanted to ask my sister to marry him.

In all honesty, it was strange at first. It took me a bit to wrap my head around it. But it only took a couple times of watching them together to see it...the spark. I had never seen someone so ENAMORED with my sister. He loved her like no one else could, and she returned the favor. How could I feel anything but complete happiness about it?! And besides, this meant he would now officially and legally be my brother.

December 19, 2010 was such a cool day. They said their vows, they danced, and I was beaming with excitement for them. I didn't think it could get much better. Two of the people I loved dearly were the happiest i had ever seen them.

Then a couple of years later, this day happened....

That's right. They were giving us a niece. I can't describe the feeling of that day.

Immediately after the baby announcement, Justin and I had an announcement of our own. We were getting married, and we asked him to be our officiant. That's right, he was going to marry us. I found it pretty fitting considering Justin was the only boy I have ever dated that he approved of.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. His first Father's Day. I couldn't be more proud of him. He is an incredible husband to my sister, and an awesome father to my niece. Life sure is different now than when our friendship began. But I wouldn't change a thing.

Stephen Brown, I owe you a LONG overdue Thank You. Thank you for being a friend, thank you for loving my sister, and thank you for being an outstanding Dad to my niece.

Happy Father's Day Brother.

The Bloom Said It All

This summer I am working on getting Justin and I's story down on paper, not chronologically, just the random moments through the years that make us, Us. Every now and then I will post some of "Our Story" here. This is my first one.

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It was pretty much like every other Tuesday night. I was home, working on dinner, and waiting for my man to get home from work. The thought that it was any sort of special day on the calendar had completely escaped from my mind. I was too concerned with not burning our dinner to even consider what the rest of the night might hold.

Tomato soup and caesar salad was on the menu. That's right, i was trying not to burn soup. Give me a break, being a domesticated "housewife" was still a relatively new idea to me.

He came through the door with a grin on his face that screamed, "I am so proud of myself". His hands seemed to be clasped behind his back, and I couldn't help but feel curious. As if his posture and facial expression wasn't enough to tell me something was up, my welcome home hug that I had grown accustomed to was missing. It was then that I realized his hands weren't just clasped, there was something in them!

"What is going on?" I kept thinking. This moment probably lasted a total of 20 seconds, but I was so confused and curious that I felt like I had been standing there, soup spoon in hand, taking it all in for at least 5 minutes.

Weeks ago we had been watching television, when the cheesiest most ridiculous commercial came on for Walgreens. They were advertising "The PERFECT gift for your Valentine." I had laughed at the commercial as a perfectly, perfect couple exchanged this most perfect gift. They had held hands, and laughed, probably danced at some point, and I'm sure there were candles involved.

I have never celebrated Valentine's Day, I find it silly. In my cynical head, I thought to myself, "I can't believe people buy into such a consumer driven holiday. Someone is actually going to watch this commercial, hop in the car, and go get their partner A BLOOMING EXPRESSION..."

That's right, the item for sale in the ad was called A BLOOMING EXPRESSION. I giggled to myself thinking that sounded like a nickname I'd use when talking in code about my vagina. I mean really people, is a fake battery operated flower that opens up to reveal a generalized statement about the way you feel going to be THE PERFECT gift for your Valentine? Did people really think that offering up this plastic bloom would generate a happily ever after which included dancing in the candle light?

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT FOR VALENTINE'S DAY!" I exclaimed, in what I felt like was the ideal sarcastic tone.

Apparently, I'm not the best at communicating through sarcasm. APPARENTLY, what I thought was the ideal sarcastic tone, actually came across as flawlessly genuine.

So, here I stood, soup spoon in hand, dying to know what Justin had so proudly come home with on this Tuesday night. As he brought his hands around front, from behind his back, he pressed a button on the bottom of the plastic vase and the cloth petals of my most perfect present opened up to reveal a lovely, but generic, statement.

I immediately died laughing. My hilarious boyfriend had remembered the oh-so-funny joke I had made weeks ago. I don't remember exactly what I said immediately after being given my Blooming Expression. But whatever it was, it did not sit very well with him. His facial expression automatically changed from the 'I'm so proud of myself face,' to the 'Uh oh, this was not the reaction I expected face.'

We both paused. Me, mid laughter. Him, confused face.

"This was a joke right??"
"You said this was what you wanted!!"
"Oh my god, I was being sarcastic..."
"Oh no...You sounded so genuine, I thought you were serious! I have to call Tyler and tell him not to give his to Emily, I convinced him to get her one because you had wanted one so badly..."

I stopped giggling, and his face went from confused to embarrassed in an instant. I suddenly realized that Justin had been excited to surprise me with "EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED FOR VALENTINE'S DAY," for at least the last 6 weeks. He later informed me that he had even called the Walgreens by his office to have them set aside the exact expression he wanted on hold.

Disappointment clouded his face and he went to set my cloth flower on the table, he looked completely defeated.

I looked over at my now BLOOMED expression, and saw that the inside of my flower said, "You are one of life's best gifts." I looked at him and thought to myself, 'Ditto.'

I hugged my boyfriend, gave him a kiss, and thanked him over and over for my PERFECT GIFT. He gave me a look that said 'Don't patronize me.' I smiled and assured him, that I loved it. And I did, I really loved it. Not because it was the perfect gift, or because I had always dreamed of a cloth flower in a plastic vase, but because it was given to me out of pure and perfect thoughtfulness.

I set the vase in the middle of the table, next to a burning candle, and we sat down to enjoy our caesar salad and tomato soup that had now burned on the stove during this whole process. We enjoyed our simple dinner, around our small table, in front of our burning candle, and a cloth flower that said it all.....

"You are one of life's best gifts."

February 14, 2012

A Day in the Life...Purple Crying and All

Sara Beth's Mommy Monday post this week!

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I’m not going to lie.  This week started out rough.  REALLY rough. And not just because I discovered that while away from home this weekend the squirrels planned another attack on my swing.

I swear its like they get together, strategize, and plan out the best time for an ambush.  All you people planning for a zombie apocalypse need to wake up!  The zombie myth is just a distraction.  The world is going to end because of a squirrel attack. Just you wait and see.

Anyway, I digress.  My week. It was the kind of week that had me running out of patience with the little one, doubting my ability as a mother, and taking it all out on my husband.  It was really our own fault though. On Saturday we spent the day in Oklahoma City with the husband’s family.  And when I say we spent the day, I mean we spent the WHOLE day.  I knew better but it was nice to be out and about and spend time with our nephew that we don’t get to see very often.  And Emma did SO good.  She hardly fussed, she ate well, and she shopped well.  (*note – the outfit change is because we had a poop incident)

And I got to drink one of these lovelies…

But Sunday brought out a side of my child that I haven’t seen since she was brand new.  A side that made us pay for our fun on Saturday and it lasted for three whole days.  She was tired.  SO tired.  And screamed…a lot…a LOT.  God bless all of the mothers and fathers out there with colicky babies.  I don’t know how you do it.  

When we were at the hospital and in labor with Emma,  they left a video with us the second we arrived entitled “Purple Crying”  The nurse explained that it teaches parents that sometimes babies cry and cry and cry for no reason and that no matter how frustrated we get,  we shouldn’t shake the baby.  My husband and I just kind of looked at her like “duh! Of course you shouldn’t shake a baby.”  Over the course of our 3 day hospital stay they must have mentioned that video at least 10 times.  We started to wonder what kind of vibe we were giving off.  I started worrying that they could already tell I wasn’t going to be a good mom. Even still, we never watched the video.  We thought that surely even the most novice of parents were capable of soothing a crying baby….

About two weeks into the whole parenting thing we found ourselves wishing we had watched the video.  It was 8 pm and this sweet tiny little baby of ours was producing a noise that was so loud that it could be heard outside of our house.  I wouldn’t really classify it as a cry…more like a scream…like she was dying…and it wouldn’t stop.  We went through our checklist…she was fed, her diaper was clean, she might be tired but she wasn’t sleeping for sure…and being brand new parents ourselves we were out of tricks.  We found ourselves standing in the living room passing her back and forth about every minute and a half.  I would take her, bounce her, shush her and she would get quiet…for a minute…and then the scream would come back and off she’d go to her dad.  Stephen would then bounce her, shush her and get her quiet for about a minute and then she’d come back to me.  This wash, rinse, repeat cycle continued for about an hour or two (or more…I lost track of time…it seemed like an eternity) and then she finally fell asleep…and I cried and Stephen sat silently staring off into space like he had just returned from battle.   

This crying/screaming session returned every night at 8 pm for weeks…you could set your clock by it.  Thankfully we learned some new strategies (one being the hair dryer.  She loves the noise.) and she eventually grew out of it.  But I will never forget that phase…and I will never forget the fear that would consume me every time she would start to get a little fussy and I was worried it would grow into a fit that we didn’t know how to stop.  I shudder just thinking about it.

And this week it returned.  Only it wasn’t just at 8pm.  It was every time she got the least bit sleepy during the day.  It was miserable….not nearly as fear inducing (because I am an experienced parent now…kidding) but exhausting none the less.  Again, parents of colicky babies, I don’t know how you do it.   

I saw a post on facebook recently from a new mom who stated that she now knew that babies are so adorable, smell so sweet, and are so snuggly because parents need those things to make it through the rough nights.  AMEN.  Thank you Lord for giving me a cute baby

…even when being a bit grumpy.

 That being said, my sweet girl returned sometime around Wednesday.  And my week returned to somewhat normal (whatever normal is these days) until Friday when I had to go post baby body swimsuit shopping…ugh…but that’s another post for another week. 

Anyway, here’s hoping next week is a little happier and that your week is filled with less tears than mine and more joy than discovering you can fit your whole fist in your mouth (although I’m not sure that’s possible!)!

How is it already Friday?

Let me just start by saying this week rocked. I got to really slack in some parts of my life (*ahem, work and writing), which allowed me to be really productive in other parts- housework and videography. I know it sounds backward, who wants to be slow at your job (which means losing money) and spend your spare time doing laundry? THIS girl!

For the first time in a VERY long time I had openings this week. On top of that several people had to reschedule, which meant even more available time! Whoopa! That translates to eating lunch- EVERY SINGLE DAY, (which never happens because I'm awful at planning ahead and rarely have a break to grab anything), running errands during breaks, and going home to let out the pups and switch out laundry. So in summary, I may be completely broke after this week, but I'm so happy for the sanity that comes with feeling productive.

I am completely shocked by how much I enjoyed doing housework this week. My last count on laundry was 8 loads, (I guess you could say we were a little behind...also we have too many clothes). After getting caught up on laundry I started one of my favorite projects of the year- cleaning out my closet. Every year at the beginning of the summer I pack up all my sweaters and send them to the attic, making room to move in all the summer clothes that had gone into hiding. Usually during this process I wind up with a rubbermaid tub full of clothes that either don't fit or have become covered in hair color and bleach. This year was no exception. (I should've known by the amount of dirty laundry we had collected). My closet is set for the season, organized by type, and replenished with new items to replace the ones in the discard tub.

On top of all of the housework I got done, I also finished editing the highlight video from the Pettigrews' wedding on Saturday. As soon as the happy couple gets back from their honeymoon and are able to watch it, I'll post the video for everyone to see! Even though I loved reviewing the footage, and had a fun time editing, it took up pretty much all of my computer time, and I didn't get any writing done all week (as you may have noticed by my lack of blog entries). For my next event's shoot, I'm going to have to designate times each day for editing. I'm sure J would appreciate not being woken up at 2 am by the light of my laptop and the same 5 seconds of video playing over, and over, and over again. 

After my pseudo-productive week, I'm excited for the events that will follow this weekend. Tomorrow is Kelsey's going away party. Dinner at Picasso Cafe, one of my faves, followed by a night of dancing and confetti at Groovys. Ohhh I cannot wait for Groovys and the weeks of finding confetti around my house that will indefinitely come after. 

SUNDAY, I have been looking forward to for a MONTH! My cast-mates from Listen To Your Mother are finally getting back together for the evening. A cookout in Ms. Carolyn's backyard, then on to Norman for the Summer Breeze Concert Series, this week's show is John Fullbright. I have really been looking forward to this day since the afternoon I last left these women. I'm honestly in awe of how much I miss them seeing as 2 months ago they were relatively strangers to me. 

The only thing I'm really dreading is the end of the weekend, Monday. I realize that's not weekend to most of you, but I am a hairdresser. Mondays are my Sunday. On Monday I have to take Phyllis to the vet. Phyllis is the wild child of my fur babies. You could say that she lives life to the fullest. You could also say that she is bat shit crazy. Both would be the truth. She either fell from a great height (would not be the first time), or has gotten into a bar fight...in which she probably started. Honestly, I wouldn't even try to narrow down the options of what Phyllis has gotten into. The summary of this story is that she is pretty scraped up and is now wrapped in bandages. Although she doesn't seem to be in any pain, she keeps throwing herself to the ground and holding her bandaged legs up in the air as if she is trying to generate some amount of sympathy. Bat shit crazy that one is...

All in all, I'm counting on it to be a pretty great weekend!

Little House On The Prairie meets Duck Dynasty

Sara's Mommy Monday post this week is priceless. Seriously has me giggling out loud- Hope you all enjoy it!

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**Disclaimer – If you are a huge animal rights activist or frown upon gun use…You may not approve of this post.  If that’s the case, here’s a cute baby picture for you and you may be on your way**

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When my sister asked me to do this blog segment, her exact words were “it doesn’t have to be all poopy diapers and breast pumps…just everyday life.”  Well here you go…this post is all about everyday life and a mom simply protecting her homestead pioneer woman style.  

The particular week I’m writing about started out much like any other.

On Monday Emma started her week off by getting milk drunk in honor of our dear friend Annika’s 21^st birthday.  We thought it was the only appropriate way to celebrate. 

On Tuesday I decided to stop procrastinating and clean out my closet…ugh…I currently own about five different wardrobes.  Please tell me I’m not the only new mom that has this issue.  I can’t exactly fit into my old clothes and I refuse to wear any more maternity clothes (except for the stretchy pants…I love those I’m not going to lie) so I’m stuck with a crazy assortment of clothes in about 5 different sizes…Oh well.  

On Wednesday my precious girl turned 2 months old!! I can’t believe it! Time has absolutely flown by! We celebrated with some cute pictures and some not so fun shots L  

On Thursday, the normal routine took an unexpected twist. Who would have thought that Thursday would be the most exciting day of the week?  Oh Thursday, you sneaky day.  You’re right between hump day and the day that gives everyone hope for the weekend.  No one expects anything noteworthy to happen on Thursday.  But this week it did.

On Thursday, a squirrel…….wait for it………ate my mother’s day present. (Yes I’ve been watching a lot of How I Met Your Mother lately).  You know, the swing that I posted a picture of a couple weeks ago.  

My first Mother’s Day present ever and a squirrel ate it.  But let me back up a bit.

My husband and I bought our first home together about a year and a half ago.  We love our home.  It’s nothing huge or fancy or new but it’s home and we LOVE the location.  It’s on a quiet dead-end street and backs up to a creek and some green space that no one can ever build on.  It’s almost like having a park for a backyard.  At any given time, you can find families playing, flying kites, fishing for tadpoles, or see our wealthy red-neck neighbors (that we desperately wish would move) ride their four wheelers.  This creek of ours also brings in some sweet wildlife to our neighborhood.  It’s not unusual to look out the kitchen window and see bunnies, several types of birds, and huge cranes (pretty cool). But the creek can also bring about some not so nice creatures too.  For instance last night we awoke to the sound of what can only be described as two monkeys doing the deed outside our window.  Any ideas on what animal that might be?  We have no idea (We’re just hoping it wasn’t the four wheeling red-neck neighbors… ).  

It also brings in skunks, ginormous opossums, an occasional snake and…squirrels, lots of them.  For the record, I hate squirrels.  They’re just rats with bushy tails. Why it’s ok for squirrels to roam around the streets and not rats, I don’t understand.  And now I have an even bigger reason to hate them. 

As I was passing by the kitchen window Thursday morning I looked out and saw a giant squirrel sitting on my swing.  I immediately went out to chase the bushy tailed rat off my beloved swing only to find that he had been ripping apart the seam on my swing cushion.  

Are you kidding me?? As I angrily stormed back in the house, texting my husband about this horrendous crime, I passed back by the kitchen window and saw him there AGAIN.  What in the world?!? This time I was irate.  Who was this squirrel and what was he doing to my poor swing?  

FIVE times, this squirrel came back to torture my swing.  FIVE times! That’s when my husband received this text message. 

Now I should have known better than to text my husband to bring me a pellet gun…I really didn’t think he would take me seriously…but he did. In fact he came home from work around lunch time, placed this beauty of a bb gun on the table and said Happy Mother’s Day.  Oh yes.  I have THE BEST husband in the world.  

        

The next few hours (or days rather…we’re still hunting squirrels two weeks later) were spent seeking revenge on one very large squirrel.  (No, I promise we’re not the redneck neighbors I referred to earlier.)  And before you get all up on your soap box about animals and guns look at these sweet pictures of my girl on her swing and then think about how this squirrel tried to ruin that sweet smile.

We started with an empty laundry detergent container and some target practice and then moved on to hunting down the real thing.  Now, I’m not a hunter and I have a very hard time inflicting pain on anything (my sister used to take full advantage of this fact when we were younger) but there is something invigorating about seeking revenge on a squirrel.  Maybe I’m bored and just need to get out of the house more, I don’t know, but I had WAY too much fun with this. And when word spread to our families of how we were spending our afternoon, they came over to join in on the fun too.  Turns out, hunting squirrels is good stress relief from work. (NO, I SWEAR we’re not the rednecks of the neighborhood.)

After a few shots and misses, we quickly learned that opening up the back door to run outside and shoot squirrels actually just scared the squirrels away.  It also elicited remarks from our redneck neighbors who were unknowingly sitting on their back porch when I ran out all Annie Oakley style shooting a bb gun.... 

“If you kill it you have to eat it!” and “Bring it over we’ll make some squirrel dumplings!"  (See, I told you we weren’t the rednecks.  What is this, Duck Dynasty?? ) Anyway, in case you were wondering, the appropriate way to shoot squirrels without scaring them is through the kitchen window in the comfort of your air conditioning.  

Well, long story short (yes this is a long post, but I’m leaving out the details of spending date night going to buy a bigger gun and how the hubs actually did kill a squirrel on Saturday and I almost cried…) we didn’t kill any squirrels on Thursday.  We did scare the living daylights out of some and I think we sent a very clear message because even though we spent the weekend peering out windows like we were under attack, we didn’t see many squirrels.  We also made friends with our neighbors who actually offered to move their giant RV away from our yard (God has been listening to our prayers!)  

And most importantly, I now get to look down and enjoy this view on my swing in peace.