Tuesday, August 31, 2010

My Husband is an Animal! (no seriously, holy crap you guys, I think he might be an actual animal)

I was downstairs doing laundry and I heard the vacuum running upstairs.  I could see just a little bit of Mitch at the top of the stairs and could tell he was vacuuming the heck out of something with the hose.  I called up, "What are you doing?  Did something break?"  He said, "No, I'm vacuuming out my pockets.  They were full of sand and I don't want to put my phone in a sandy pocket."  Oh.  Of course.

The other night Kira and Mitch and Sam were jumping on the trampoline and Kira spotted a deer at the bottom of the hill.  Kira jumped off the tramp and she and the dog chased the deer into the woods.  It took her a while to come back and when Mitch asked where she was she said, "I was marking my territory."  Now you're wondering, what could that possibly mean?  She wasn't actually urinating in little squirts in different spots and on trees around the yard with the idea that it would let the deer and bears and skunks and dogs know who was really the boss around here, was she?   Yes.  She was. 

You know how you hear old stories (Tarzan) about babies who are abandoned in the woods and are adopted and raised by wolves or apes (depending on the continent, I suppose), but always know there is something different about them and they long to be with their own kind?  I think Kira may have been switched at birth with a wolf pup and now my real daughter is out in the woods somewhere thinking that raw meat is totally disgusting and would rather have a Facebook page than sniffing pee on tree trunks for messages from friends.  (Kira was suspiciously furry when she was born.)

But then I look at Mitch who thinks vacuuming out his pockets is a sensible solution to sandy pockets and I think that perhaps a more logical explanation is that Mitch was a wolf pup and was raised by humans and now Kira is peeing on trees and hunting in dog packs purely on instinct.  Now that I think about it there are some signs, aside from the vacuuming of pockets (everyone knows wolves are constantly vacuuming out the pockets of their work clothes) that make me think that yes, Mitch is a wolf, raised by humans:

1.  More often than you'd think, he's come home with a funky smell on his jacket or his shirts and when I ask what it is he jokingly says, "I rolled in something."  (At least I always thought it was a joke.)

2.  The way he kicks the grass with his back legs after he poops.

3.  The incessant howling.

4.  The incessant digging.

5.  His long tail.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Lake Superior Zoo

We went to the zoo today and this is how hot it was:

Also, Lake Superior Zoo isn't the nicest.  That kangaroo might have been dead.

Kira in the Car Part XI

"Mom, do you think you could make a candle out of ear wax and it would work but it would stink?"

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Playland Nightmares

My lovely 19 month old niece, Sidney, and Beth are visiting this weekend.  This morning we thought it would be really fun to go shopping.  I can't believe that I forgot what it is like to go out with a toddler.  I swore when I had toddlers that I would never forget, but I did.  One thing I forgot is that toddlers won't let you look at anything for more than one second.  Then you either have to move on or endure some screaming or dismantling of shelves.  Beth managed to get what she needed to get but only because Sam, Kira and I were all trying to keep Sid occupied.

"Call ... the police"

After that we went to the McDonald's Playland.  I also forgot about how McDonald's Playland is Dante's fifth circle of Hell, but as the stay-at-home mother of toddlers, one of the only cheap, socially acceptable places to take your kids in the dead of winter.  You KNOW that when you go there you are going to have to eat disgusting food, put up with noise and other kids, utter filth ("Mom! That kid just puked down the slide!") but it's your only opportunity to go OUT so you get excited!

Every playland I've ever been in so so loud because they are, for some inexplicable reason, built like echo chambers, and it's not just the kids screaming and having fun that is so annoying, there is always at least one parent who is trying to get their kid's attention by saying his/her name 50,000 times.  Today that kid was named Chelsea.  Chelsea (or Chels) wouldn't come out of the tubes that snaked around the ceiling so her big dad had to go up and try to fish her out, but she was way faster than he was so when he got up to the top he rested with his giant exposed butt crack right above Sam's head.  We left.  There's a good chance Chels is still up there somewhere unless her dad finally caught her and strangled her to death. 

Toddlers of any age aren't easy to take anywhere that isn't for the sole purpose of their own fun, but toddlers that are potty trained are the worst.  After Sam was potty trained he was on a world tour of public bathrooms; the grosser, the better.  Mitch actually had to one time utter the sentence, "DON'T LICK THE URINAL!"  I remember (now that I'm thinking back) how whenever I'd take the kids to the playplace, as soon as we'd get our food Sam would say, "I have to poop."  Oh, how I wished he was still in diapers during those times because I'd have to pack baby Kira up and haul all three of us into a stall and then wipe him while she was doing contortions in her carseat so she could touch the walls and bathroom floor with any and every part of her body.  Those were sweaty times.  I am SO GLAD those days are behind us.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Summer vacation is too long.

The kids are driving me nuts.  Today I got into an argument with Sam in front of my mother-in-law because he was going off on one of his "I am thirteen therefore I know everything and I will share my vast stores of knowledge with you in choppy non-sequiturs" rants about how all Apple computer products come with self-cleaning screens.  My MIL just sort of nodded her head like, "whatever you say" but for some inexplicable reason I rose to the bait.  I wanted to say, "You just made that up in your head and now you are spouting it as truth, Sean Hannity." but I didn't.  I made the mistake of actually saying, "No, Sam, they don't."  So then he, in his teenage way, took this as an affront to his intelligence and burgeoning manhood and decided on a full-blown argument.

Sam: "Haven't you ever noticed when you lick your finger and touch the screen, it gets clean in a few seconds?  IT'S SELF CLEANING!" 
Kira: You LICK your iPod?
Sam:  Kira, stay out of it, I said when I LICK MY FINGER!
Me:  No, sorry, you are wrong on this one.  I have an iPod myself and clean the screen manually (like a total sucker.)
Kira: Remind me not to touch his iPod.
Sam: Kira SHUT UP!
Me:  Kira, go play outside.
MIL:  Well, I better head home.....
Sam: I'll prove it!

Sam then marched off to his room and retrieved his iPod to show his grandmother and me what happens when you lick your finger (with a dramatic flourish) and rub the spit on your iPod.  The spit evaporated and he said, "SEE!"

Then the neighbor kid came over to play with Kira.  She has decided she's sick of him and tries to weasel out of playing with him by telling him she has "chores."  I said, "If you don't go outside and play with Kolten, you actually will have endless chores until you go to bed, now please, for the love of god, GO OUTSIDE!"

I really admire women who can do all their mothering and household chores and also have fun activities planned to entertain their children every day.  I don't know how they do it, or how they can put up with the kids' attitude that whatever you planned for them could be just a little bit better if only... (insert complaint here). Like when we took them to Rainy Lake last weekend to spend two fun-filled days with their cousins and uncle swimming, knee boarding, etc. etc. and then they had the GALL to pout about leaving on Sunday instead of Monday.  That striving my kids have for me to do just a little more for them than I actually do is what kills any desire for me to attempt to entertain them toward the end of August, other than to repeatedly offer them ALL OF THE OUTDOORS FOR THEIR PLAYING PLEASURE ALL THE LIVE-LONG DAY.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Another (and hopefully my last in a long time) Dental Disaster

I had to go to the dentist today for my last appointment to fix everything I have been ignoring for the last ten years because of my crippling case of dental-phobia.  This particular dentist is about 16 years old and wants to be called Dr. Stephanie.  (Not her real name, but you get the idea, Doctor + first name).  She did a pretty good job last time.  She was quick, and it was relatively painless so I wasn't dreading today too much.  First she told me what she would be doing;  filling three cavities, one which she said was "deepish" and might be sensitive for a while.  Then we talked about Days of Our Lives for a while and then she got busy.  It wasn't too bad until she cut her finger and bled into my mouth.

yeah, that's right, I said, BLED INTO MY MOUTH!

That kind of sucked for both of us.  Now I have to go to the clinic later and have some blood drawn to prove to her that I don't have HIV or HCV or HBV or an other kind of virus. I wonder what I caught from her?  Probably nothing, I'm not worried about it, but I am so ticked about having to have blood taken (I don't really feel like fainting today) that I didn't reassure her about my virus-free status and instead just said, ".... oh..... no.  I'm so sorry that happened.  To you."

Now I'm sitting at home and the novocaine is wearing off and the tooth she said might be a bit sensitive is hurting like someone was pounding on it with a jackhammer.  Oh well, at least now I don't have to go back to the dentist for another ten years.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Over the Top

This weekend my sister Beth watched the movie Over the Top with Sylvester Stallone.  It's all about arm wrestling and the extreme technical advantage one has if they move their fingers two inches in the middle of a match.  Beth was really into it.  I know because she shushed me and held her finger up to maintain her shush during the big match at the end.  Sly was having a match with a gigantic arm wrestling maniac and his entire career, not to mention his tenuous family life, rested on whether he won or not.  I'm not going to spoil the ending, but let me tell you, Robert Logia was PISSED!

He's wearing an arm warmer to protect his investment.

My dad said that there is a picture of a local boy in a resort and he's with Sly Stallone at the arm wrestling championship in Las Vegas.  Apparently this boy "went all the way" in the arm wrestling world although I don't know if his entire career and family life depended on his success.  Dad says he did really well because he is missing a leg and that puts him in a more favorable weight class.  I laughed and he said, "Well, come on, what does a leg weigh?  75 pounds? That's quite an advantage."  Way to see the silver lining of being one-legged, Dad and the kid-with-one-leg-who-turned-his-lemons-into-lemonade-by-being-in-a-lower-weight-class-in-the-arm-wrestling-championships!

Thursday, August 19, 2010

My ankle hurts like a mofo

I woke up this morning and asked Mitch to take me out back and shoot me.  I'm having some ankle problems and apparently that's more physical discomfort than I can take so I'd never be a really good chronic pain sufferer, or cancer patient, okay, Fate?  Just so you know.

I don't know what is wrong with my ankle other than it hurts like a motherfucker if I walk on it.  Mitch immediately said, "It's the gout."  So I looked up the symptoms of gout on Webmd and it's not the gout.  My love of organ meat can live to see another day.  (just kidding.  gross)

This is what happened, prepare to be bored and judgmental of my wieniness:  I was driving along with the kids to the grocery store.  I got out and was walking along in the parking lot and my ankle seized up and now it hurts whenever I bend my foot.  That was the worst grocery shopping trip ever because 1) I hadn't yet learned that if I keep my foot really stiff and walk on my toes it doesn't hurt as much so instead I just walked normally and said, "Ow, mo-ther-fu-cker!" every step.  2) I really REALLY had to pee and I might have even peed my pants a tiny bit because I was concentrating so hard on not falling down and not letting my kids hear me swear, and couldn't concentrate on the intense kegel that was required to get me through the store without wetting myself.  3) The store I went to didn't have a bakery.  DID NOT HAVE A BAKERY.  Needless to say, I'm blaming it all on the store with no bakery.  If I didn't have to go there and see their (lame) remodel my ankle would probably be fine, I wouldn't have had to wash my pants when I got home, and I'd have some good bread. 

I know it's not a sprained ankle because I've already had that so I know what that feels like.  I think it either needs a good cracking to get things back into place or else when I sprained my ankle a few years ago and chipped a bone, the bone chip has moved into someplace that hurts.  Mitch scoffs at this theory because he calls my sprain a "little to no sprain" but let me tell you something, it was one of the worst sprains ever in the history of man.  (I think the sprain may have been on the other leg.  I'm no doctor, but I'm guessing it may be harder for a bone chip to move to the other leg.) I looked up on google what I should do with ankle pain and several of the suggestions were to go see a chiropractor.  I've have made it my business to belittle chiropractors for my entire adult life, and maybe this is fate showing me what's what.  (Why do they need to be called "doctor?"  They aren't doctors.)

I'm going to the cabin this weekend with a bunch of girlfriends and I'm bringing a full bottle of gin and there are a bunch of stairs going down to the lake. None of this bodes well for my ankle, or my friends, or the gin.  Hopefully I can get one of them to try to crack it. (and if they fix it, I guess I'll have to call them "doctor.")

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Gay, pill-popping, blogmaster maniac!

I got my first hate-comment!  It was on the post title Eighth Graders, here it is:

It's kind of scary and exciting!  He has left a website from Denmark that I haven't visited because I'm sure it will give me a virus, but that isn't what has interested me.  What interests me is that for one, he thinks I'm a male.  There are pictures of me all over this blog so I'm going to assume the worst and believe that he can't tell I'm female, and instead thinks that I am a highly employable male porn star.  Wouldn't that be just my luck to be the doppelganger of a well-known, male, gay, drug-addicted porn star?


Whoever did it has to be at least a little bit tech savvy because his visit didn't register on my statcounter.  That being said, he has left a message on a post I wrote all the way back in April.  Nobody is reading posts from April, and if he really wanted to besmirch my character, you'd think it would be more effective on a newer post.   Tech savvy, but not craving too much attention, so I have to assume he had a problem with the post itself, but I don't get it because I didn't even write about porn and the first line of his comment is "Porn?"  Yeah, what about it?  I wrote about how mean eighth grade boys are.  Maybe he took offense because he IS an eighth grade boy which would explain the meanness and the bad writing. 

For the record, I haven't been in any gay porn (yet), but if I was I would have to pop at least a few pills in order to "take cock in every hole."  Am I wrong to assume a person needs to be a little bit loose for that?    I think not.

Most importantly, I've got my first "troll" who has "flamed" me and I couldn't be more excited about it!  I'm a blog "master" now!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

What if?

Today Mitch asked me:

"What if we were in a horrible accident that rendered us both armless, and you couldn't brush your teeth because you're not flexible enough to reach your mouth with your feet (jab) and I had to brush them for you. With my feet. Would you like that?"

Friday, August 13, 2010

Chipmunk Fun

Today the kids were 1) outside, 2) not crying about being bored, and 3) quiet.  I suspected something was up so I went out to check.  Kira and Kolten, the neighbor kid, are trying to catch chipmunks.  They each have a bucket and they are standing quietly over a pile of seeds, waiting.

Every once in a while I'll hear the buckets slam down and then one of them will say, "DARNIT!" because the chipmunks can see that bucket coming from a mile away.  I wonder what they will do if they catch one?  Probably get bitten hard enough to bleed and then we'll have to try to capture the offending chipmunk to be tested for rabies, and if we can't catch the chipmunk the child who was bitten will be in for a series of rabies shots.  But it's worth it if it keeps them outside, busy and quiet, isn't it?  How many more days of summer vacation are there?

 The chipmunk says, "There's 29 days until school starts.  Actually, 29.5." 

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Hey! This is my 502nd post!

I meant to write something special for the 500th post but I forgot and lost track.  I really love blogging because it makes me very cool.  (It's the Dungeons and Dragons of the 21st century!)  Here's the highlights of the first 502 posts worth of blogging:

1.  27 people have decided to "follow" my blog.  That shocks and flatters me.  Thank you, you 27 people who have each given me a little ego boost.  (Actually, it's only 26 because I follow my own blog.) (Lame)

2.  I can tell from my statcounter that I have readers from all over the world.  CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!  I can't.  Every time I look at my stats and see that people from Jersey City and El Cajon and Weisbaden, Germany have looked at my blog, I get a little thrill.

 from my Statcounter map

Most of the people come here because for some reason the picture of a random bird that I used for one post has somehow gotten linked to my blog and now every time someone looks for a picture of a quaker parrot on google images, they get directed to my blog. Oh well.  I'll take what I can get.

3.  I have made some great new friends.  One of my first blogger friends was Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka.  She's great.  Also Wendi Aarons who is a big deal in the blogging world, has read my blog and both of them have actually commented!  No, you shut up!  They did! (Those two are like D and D wizards) Also I've re-connected with some real-world friends who I've lost touch with over the years.  (Hi Anne, Kady, Jill, Carrie!)

4.  I've discovered some excellent blogs by other women that I am now addicted to reading every day.

5.  I won an award out of the blue.

6.  I've finally started writing down stories that when I tell people they say, "You should write that down."  Done and done.  And they are organized, and easy to find!  Now I can easily find that funny picture of Sam doing the limbo, or Kira's art projects, and I can brag about my husband.

Thanks to everyone who reads my blog.  I really appreciate you coming here to read the latest silliness I've written about and I love your comments!

Happy 502nd Post!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Close Quarters

Sam and Kira and I came up to Rainy Lake to spend some time together at the cabin.  We've been together almost every minute (especially Kira and I.  Sam goes for long boat rides by himself.  I don't know why.)  Kira LOVES to fish.  She spends hours on the dock casting like this:

or simply gazing into the water looking for fish, like this:

She has caught a few small northern pike.  If you don't know about Northern Minnesota fish, northerns are slimy.  Kira is enthralled with their slime and said she would really like to scrape it off of all the fish she catches and save it in a jar. I think it's one of the stranger requests I've ever had to refuse.

Sam spends most of his time in the boat.  I think it is either because it is the only vehicle he is allowed to drive, or because Kira and I drive him nuts.  Probably both.

He went exploring to Big American island today.  Voyageur's National Park has a pamphlet with a scavenger hunt on it.  You can look for all kinds of neat things from the old gold mining days.  He didn't find any gold.  (I don't think.)

Tonight the three of us went out for burgers and while we were waiting for our food, out of the blue Kira said to us, "I'd like to make a doll and I'd use my real hair and eyelashes and my old baby teeth."  Can you imagine a more horrifying doll?  If it was up to her, her room would be filled with jars of fish slime and dolls made of real human parts and I don't even want to know what else.

While we were at dinner we saw a man with super-human calves.  They were unbelievable.  Here's a picture:

He was just a normal looking man, but then you look down and see those enormous calves.  I noticed because Kira was looking at him like this:

and was about to say something loud and inappropriate, which would make Sam make this face because everything we do is embarrassing.

Thankfully she kept her mouth shut.  

We had a nice dinner and when we got to the car we saw this sitting on the dash:

It's a chunk of Play-Doh Kira molded into a gun shape.  When we got in the car she said, "Hey Sam, hand me my piece."

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Angelina Jolie, please eat something.

Mitch and I went to see the movie Salt tonight.  It was okay.  It was a little far fetched and the most unbelievable part of the entire movie was that Angelina Jolie is tough and somehow strong.  She is frighteningly thin.  There was one part where she had to pick up and carry a large-ish fire extinguisher and I am shocked she was able to lift it with such ease.  It must have been fake because if it was real, her brittle little twig fingers would have shattered.  It was probably styrofoam.  She had many scenes where she was fighting full-sized, well nutritioned men and she kicked ass every time.  In reality she was probably too weak from hunger to throw two punches in a row.  Those scenes probably took weeks to film.  There was a scene where she was running through some woods in the winter.  She blends in perfectly with the forest.  She's like a bag of sticks with a beautiful head. 

Today I read in a magazine that Jessica Simpson has "ballooned" up to my goal weight.  I suppose she won't be "ideal" until she is Angelina's size.

I typed "Jessica Simpson fat" on Google images and got this picture.  This jpeg is actually titled "fat+Jessica+Simpson" Does she look fat in this picture? Fuck no.  Does she look fat in any of the pictures?  I guess that's a matter of opinion, but if she is fat, what am I?  How long do magazines and movies and fucking TMZ think they can spout this garbage to women and have us eat it up and feel bad about having bodies with naturally twice as many fat cells as men, and getting "wrecked" by pregnancy (as Jillian Michaels says)?  Why aren't there more riots at places like Ford Modeling Agency and any major women's magazine? Why hasn't someone beheaded Anna Wintour and stuck her skinny head on a stake and marched it around?  Because we're women, that's why.  Civilized, polite, self-conscious women.   

Wow.  What a world.  Angelina, please, eat something.  Jessica, you look beautiful at MY GOAL WEIGHT and anyone who says any different is a dumbass woman-hater.

Friday, August 6, 2010


Do you have a nickname? I think nicknames are hilarious.  Sometimes.  Sometimes they aren't very inspired, but sometimes they are and they crack me up.  It might be funny because of how unlike it is to the person it is naming. For example, my favorite Uncle who we occasionally call "T-bone."  You see, he's not your stereotypical T-bone; all tough, beef-loving, and motorcycle riding;  (he was in an accordion marching band when he was little) and that's why it's funny!  I looked on the internet for funny nicknames and not many of the ones I saw were all that funny except someone wrote in and said he knew someone named "Summer Teeth" but didn't know why he was called that.  For some reason that one just tickles me. 

My sister Beth tells me most of the nicknames I know because she works in a paper mill and a lot of the people she works with have nicknames. She says that a lot of the people don't know about their nicknames because they are usually not very flattering and people don't dare say them to their face, although some people embrace their unflattering nicknames, like a guy she knows named "Pignuts."  I guess that is the only name some people know him by and he's apparently okay with that.  I am torn between wanting and not wanting to know the origin of that particular name.  Another testicle-based nickname she told me about is a guy they call "Left Testicle" because his real name sounds vaguely like "left testicle" in that it has the same number of syllables.  (Hey, so does mine...crap) She knows another guy that they called "High Pockets" because he wears his pants really high.  I think that might be my favorite one because it is so funny in its un-creativeness.  They only call him High Pockets behind his back.   Apparently High Pockets is a little touchy and wouldn't like to be called High Pockets. 

Mitch knew a guy in high school that they called "Water Baby" because he had a big head.   Mitch also worked construction for a while and one of the guys on his crew was called "Skin."  Isn't that disgusting?  Just Skin as in "Hey Skin, take that heroin needle out from between your toes and brace this ladder for me."

There was a mean kid in middle school who was seemingly bulletproof and would relentlessly pick on everyone until they cried and one day he did it to one of my friends and she was ticked off and upset and in a fit of pure genius screamed, "SHUT UP WESSSSSSSSSSS!" as in Wesson Oil because he was kind of greasy.  From then on whenever he'd get mean to anyone, a quiet hissing would start, "wesssss.... wessssss... wessssss... wessssss.... WESSSSSSSS!"  He eventually stopped being such a bastard.  

What are your favorite nicknames?  I'm going to start a nickname page on the blog (see the buttons under the title), so give me some good ones.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Facebook, I love you, and I hate you.

I have a Facebook page and I'm in a love/hate relationship with it.  I love it because, obviously, I get to be in touch with every person I've ever met that has a computer without actually having to see them face to face or talk to anyone on the phone.  But I hate it too because I spend WAY too much time looking at it and trying to think of vacuous update statuses.  Actually I hate it for a lot of reasons.  I'll just make a list:

1.  I waste too much time on it.  Totally wasted time.  Nothing productive coming out of it.

2.  I can't think of status updates.  There are only so many times I can tell people I have to poop before they unfriend me. 

3.  I was talked into (by myself) to make a page for this blog and now I'm in a stupid position of waiting for people to "like" it which is kind of pathetic in a way. No, not in a away, totally.  Totally pathetic.  Thanks, Facebook.  I put a "like" button up and it immediately said that 146 people liked it.  Thanks for making me feel popular, but Facebook, we both know that was a lie, and if we both know, it's a pointless lie. 


4.  Passive aggressive status updates from friends.  For example: "Why is it that old friends hurt you the most?"  Really?  MUST you post that on a public internet bulletin board?  Can't you just start your old friend's house on fire and be quiet about it?

5.  Vague, secret-y status updates from friends.  "Today could be the day!  Cross your fingers and pray for us!" but when you ask them what they are talking about they say they don't want to talk about it.  TOO LATE.  You posted it on the internet, now you have to talk about it. I want to know because I'm not going to cross my fingers for you because I don't know what I'm crossing my fingers for.  What if you have decided to take up the worship of the ancient god Moloch and today is the day you burn an infant alive?  I'm not really for that.  

6.  Getting unfriended.  I looked at my profile one day and I had 150 friends.  I looked at it later and I had 149.  Somebody dumped me, and I looked through the list and I can't figure out who it was, which obviously means they probably weren't all that important to me, but still.  "Unfriended."  Rejection.  Yuck.

7.  Mitch makes fun of me.  He thinks having a Facebook page is narcissistic.  And that makes me think that if he thinks having a Facebook page is narcissistic, what must he think of me having an entire blog devoted to myself?  Talk about narcissistic!  But he doesn't say anything about that because he retains even more superiority in letting it remain an implication.  Now we both know that he thinks he's just a little bit better than me and that really squeezes my 'roids!

Do you have a Facebook page?   What do you think of Facebook?

(p.s.  Friend me!)
(p.p.s I hate myself)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Beach Day

Like I said before, it is blazing hot today so we went to a beach on Lake Superior.  We met my MIL and nieces and the kids and I swam for hours.  The water wasn't as warm as it was on Sunday, but it still felt so good to get in. There was a lady there that had the biggest, tannest boobs I've ever seen in my life.  Cantaloupes the color of walnuts stuffed into a bikini that was WAY too small.  She was about ten years older than me, which means she could be a member of AARP, so you know, too old to be wearing a teeny weeny bikini.  (They make mom-suits for a reason, lady.)  She had a kid there that spotted a cormorant out in the water fishing.  The kid said, "Mom look!  It's a Loch Ness Monster!"  She looked and said, "Oh my god, I can't believe you think that is a sea monster.  Anyone can tell it's a loon."
What a boob!  (get it?)

Anyway, here's some pictures from today. 

The kids all brought goggles so they could search for treasure.

Kira came up sputtering with excitement once and screamed, "I found a jewel!"  
She found an amethyst in the water under a rock.  Pretty good find!


It was so hot that even Sam got in the water!

The boy formerly known as "Dry Boy"
Cousins hopping on rocks
Lake Superior

Hot Stuff

It is so hot and humid in my house right now that I am waiting to hear a loud BLOOP and suddenly find myself underwater.  How can the air hold this much water?  I keep hearing that it's "hotter than balls" but I've never encountered a set of balls that were this hot. Not even close.  I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not.  I LOVE THE HEAT.  And if it wasn't for the instant mold and mildew and constant dampness of clothing, I would love the humidity too.  It's easier to breathe.  If I get too hot and start to get a little cranky I remind myself that my feet are going to get cold in mid-September and stay cold until late May, and then I snap out of it and go bask in the sun and sweat.  The kids and I are going to the beach this afternoon and this time I'll bring my camera.  See ya later!

Sunday, August 1, 2010


We spent the weekend in or near water.  It was so great.  Saturday we went on a hike on a trail along the Sucker River and found these great falls that Mitch and Kira swam in. 

Kira thought it was so cool that she could slip right behind the falling water. I didn't bring my swimsuit yesterday or else I would have jumped in too.  I almost went au naturale but my father-in-law was with us and he didn't want to see that.  Sam didn't swim either.  He's more of a desert boy, I think.

Here I am stripping to chants of "Leave it on! Leave it on!" by my son and FIL

I waded and my shoes are still wet. 

Today we went to Brighton Beach along Lake Superior for a picnic and again, I didn't bring my swimsuit because hello, it's Lake Superior.  The mean temperature is about 32.5 degrees.  Brrr.  We got down there and it was HOT and still.  The water was smooth and actually warmish, as in it didn't make me cringe when I touched it. Brighton Beach is rocky and I was having such a good time wading and jumping from rock to rock in the water, that I finally just jumped in with all my clothes on.  As soon as I did Mitch said, "Oh my god, you are such a redneck!" and acted all embarrassed to be seen with me, but five minutes before he judged me like that, he changed into his suit right on the not-packed-but-certainly-peopled beach. (redneck)  We swam for about an hour.  I can't even describe how incredible it was.  I was treading in pleasantly cool water, watching an ore ship head to the harbor, and if I looked down I could see perfectly clearly 15 feet below my feet to the rocks on the bottom.  I love Duluth.