round-up pictures

Sometimes my sign that says "What happens at Grandma's never happened" is true.  Good thing Grandpa doesn't read my blog.  

Lydia said she hadn't planned on riding her bike here so she hadn't packed her helmet.  She borrowed one she found in the garage.  It will fit when she grows three feet and gains 150 pounds.

When Avery and Luke grew weary of letting 'er buck they took a break with sidewalk chalk and the hose.

Great job on the cake, Ashley.  To quote Luke, he had a "HUGE" party.  

The Funniest Thing About Getting Ready For the Bridal Shower

Shelly found a dead mouse in the closet.  Of course we didn't know it was dead.  We thought it was holding perfectly still because Shelly was standing guard over it while I ran next door to get the Great White Hunter.  Turns out it wasn't just intimidated.  In fact, it had been deceased for quite some time according to the next door dead mouse expert.  And yes, I finished that tiramisu and I'm not sorry.  On an unrelated note, I wonder how many chubby little fingers are going to adjust Dave's stereo before it dies:

How to Enjoy Ice Cream

River Bling

Look at the sparkly stuff on the river.  It looks like Lydia's shoes.   Maybe it's actually some kind of disgusting insects, but as long as they keep sparkling down there and not flying in my mouth/up my nostrils/into my eyelids, I like them.

And this picture is for Tate.  Who loves to go for a walk to the "fridge".

Random Pictures

Sometimes little people visit me and I have to take their picture.

 Sometimes I have to take it really fast or they disappear.  

But sometimes they stop long enough to show me a funny face.

Sometimes they stop to study the neighbors' strange toys.  Or is it the strange neighbors' toys.

But then they have to be off again.

But not before they say "hey, there's a house for sale across the street.  Sure wish we would buy it."

T-Ball, The Next Generation

  
 Gotta love T-ball.  You've got your players,

Your fans,

your coaches,

And your wanna be players.

Maybe next year kid.

T-Ball is the Best.

Dear Deer:

It seems you, Mr Deer & Friends, have developed a taste for everything in my garden.  I don't like you.  I have never liked you.  And look what happened to your friends last year.  I'm just sayin. . .