I used to think there wasn’t enough elevation in Midwestia for a proper gushing waterfall.
Last week I learned I was wrong.
It sounded just like Yosemite, and if there’d been a couple of pine trees I could have imagined I was there—not that I needed to.
The spot was perfect right where it was.
Besides, in Yosemite you can’t go underneath the waterfalls.
I think it is my newest favorite hang out.
On weekends, after going to school all week, taking care of a baby, and doing homework, Alex likes to participate in bike races.
Only, they’re not normal bike races. They’re called ‘Cyclo Cross’. And they’re done in urban settings (say the park by Sus and Alex’s house) with a road bike. The course consists of lawn, mud, hills, barriers, more hills, and tight turns around the baseball diamonds. The race is 45 minutes long.
Here are pictures from his races this last weekend.
I’m tired just looking at these again.
If you recall, Abby was born not liking baths.
Like many of life’s finer things, it appears to be an acquired taste…
One that she has, no doubt in my mind, acquired.
In her past life she was: impatient when I was late (which was/is always), impatient when I talked to much (which is usually), and impatient when I made a mess (which is often).
In her new life, she doesn’t have time to worry about me. And she is patient. So. Patient.
Consider Halloween evening. She was duct-taping together Alex’s costume, making her own, and holding Abby, who couldn’t stand to be out of her arms. When Sus would set her down Miss Abby would scream bloody murder—like the kind of screams that make your ear drums rattle. After two hours, I really thought I was going to have to take a walk around the house—I couldn’t listen to it anymore! As I am slowly working myself into a panic, I look over at Sus, who is patiently watching her baby scream as if the world is ending, and hear her say (calmly): “Maybe she’s teething.”
She floored me. No anger. No frustration. No panic. Just genuine concern for the Munchkin.
My sister is amazing.
And patient.
To this little thing:
I can’t get enough.
I think about her all the time
And I’m so jealous that Sus and Alex get to see her everyday.
I may have to move to Ann Arbor to satisfy my craving.
Its that or check myself into a clinic.
I tried crab legs for the first time the other night. Melissa heard I’d never had them and made it her mission to remedy the situation immediately.
Crab legs, it turns out, are tasty. Sweet. Not fishy. And look uncannily like spider legs to me. This last part is a little disturbing.
Thankfully, crab legs are served with an ample supply of butter and salt, which kind of makes up for the fact that they are glorified arachnids.
p.s. Like my new shirt? Me too. Note to any of you who may be thinking of buying a trendy shirt like this. When you bend down, that droopy part opens all the way to your belly button. Not a problem unless you are tying your shoe in front of your plant biology students.
Who likes videos and animals.
This little guy hung out in my backyard for most of last week.
He and the cats got on just fine:
He was a curious little fellow.
Unfortunately, it turns out he was also deathly, rabidly, ill (Ari’s mom, please don’t tell Ari this part… just leave it at “look at that cute little raccoon!”)
RIP Cute Little Raccoon.
