Last night I was sitting at our table working on a project. . .
Now I can sit and knit in any corner of the house for hours upon hours. And with the exception of the baby (yes, Bezzie, she's STILL the baby lol) nobody pays me any attention unless they're hungry. I've got quite a few corners around the house where I can hide and knit. But take a seat at the kitchen table and no matter what they were doing before I sat at the table, suddenly everyone must gather round. It is not a phenomenon I understand. I'm working on a theory that they're hoping that since I'm at the table there might be food involved. But it is only the beginning of a theory. Another theory I have is maybe they've all learned not to interrupt me when I'm knitting but all bets are off when I am engaged in other activities. I think this might be a more viable theory, but I digress.
So there I was at the table, and before I knew it the girls had gathered round. Sweet Pea alternated between sitting on my lap and coloring. The other two were busy with the markers. Meaty was no where to be seen. I'm guessing he was upstairs "hunting" on the X-Box.
Enter The Greatest stage left.
He had been to the range and needed to clean his handgun. Normally he does this on the floor in front of the TV, but I guess since everyone else was at the table he felt the need to join the party.
Before I knew it the girls had abandoned their art and commenced with "helping" Daddy.
If only I could get them to help me clean so cheerfully!
Once upon a time, in another life, I was afraid of guns. The thought of my sweet children so casually handling gun pieces would have sent me into a panic attack. Funny how things change. Now it was just another Friday night.
And Me? What was I doing at the table?
I'm not ready to talk about it yet (not because it is a secret, its just a long story) but I can tell you I didn't touch the gun.
I was busy with other things.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday Loving
I'm loving . . .
Yet another child who thinks she can hide in the fridge . . .
She stands there and drinks the Hershey's Syrup straight from the bottle. And she thinks I don't know she's doing it. But I do. And mostly I'm just jealous.
My Swing . . .
Remember this?
Well, now it looks like this!
Some new canvas, upholstry thread, and swearing, and I've got my swing back. I love everthing about it. I love the color on the fabric, the pattern, the way the pattern is accidentally perfectly centered, the fact that it holds my body weight. I love my swing.
Handknit baby hats . . .
She recently wore this hat at the Grand Canyon. And I got a ridiculous amount of compliments on it. Makes me feel all skilled and stuff.
And finally, I love Bird's art . . .
She says it is a chicken.
Yet another child who thinks she can hide in the fridge . . .
She stands there and drinks the Hershey's Syrup straight from the bottle. And she thinks I don't know she's doing it. But I do. And mostly I'm just jealous.
My Swing . . .
Remember this?
Well, now it looks like this!
Some new canvas, upholstry thread, and swearing, and I've got my swing back. I love everthing about it. I love the color on the fabric, the pattern, the way the pattern is accidentally perfectly centered, the fact that it holds my body weight. I love my swing.
Handknit baby hats . . .
She recently wore this hat at the Grand Canyon. And I got a ridiculous amount of compliments on it. Makes me feel all skilled and stuff.
And finally, I love Bird's art . . .
She says it is a chicken.