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It's hard to believe that I was enjoying a hot sunny day in New Orleans a week ago and now the storm of the century (so I read today) will be hitting soon.

Here is a quick link to the rest of the photos. Be sure to click on the detail link if you want more information about the photos. (instead of the slide show)
http://www.flickr.com/gp/8125773@N08/487y9L

Sidewalk War Wounds

This is the exact reason they say "motherhood is the hardest job there is." Whoever they is. Seeing your child hurt is the most difficult thing a mommy can endure. All you really want to do for them is fix it. Make it better. Take the pain for yourself. If only it was that easy.
On a walk last night my son decided to run free like the wind. He little face gleaming as he ran with one arm swinging and his shoulder a movin'. He really gets into it. He brings his legs way up like he's marching....marching spastically. His shoes got the best of him. I don't know where he could possibly have gotten a clumsy gene from. (looking away sheepishly.) I peeled him from the cement. The screaming had already started. I carried him home uphill for what seemed like miles upon miles, whilst he screamed that his leg was HURRRRTINGGGGG MOMMMMYY in my ear. If I would try to put him down (for fear my back would be cracking in half anytime) he would scream at a higher pitch as if I had personally cut his leg right off. He would limp a step and scream more. When we got home, I had to clean the wound. I blew on it (because that's what I always saw the TV moms do on the commercials....I think it's a ridiculous procedure, just made him cold) then I tried to apply wound fixer goo. Mistake. As was the application of the Elmo bandaid. Bigger mistake. He cried for 2 hours (not even an exaggeration.) He lay in bed as if he had the bubonic plague. Being sure to keep the leg elevated for fear anything would touch it.

Immediately when he woke this morning he told me excitedly that he needed to tell his friends about his war wound. "I gotta show em' mama!"....

Sidewalk war wounds are a big battle at this age!

Dahlias a Plenty

My front flower garden has gone a little berserk. I think it's on steroids. I have dahlias the size of my little one's head. I have mum's that have grown as tall as my shoulders (they are normally a low lying plant no taller than a couple feet) I haven't fertilized anything this year. Not once. Those wraskary wrabbits that tromp through the neighborhood at night like a pack of wolves must have done something to them, I'm convinced. But it's nearing the end of the season and I was picking them for my house. They say that fresh flowers make for a more calm and happy home...I just like the fact that I grew them myself. and must point them out to every passer througher. Today, I thought I would show you how good they went with my outfit. But then I decided to heck with me..... it's much more adorable to see them in the hands of a toddler. The curious and delicate hands of a toddler.

Gator Land

I had the opportunity to visit the Big Easy for a few days this past week. My first trip to the south. It was a random choice, like most vacations I take. This time though...it was a girly trip. No boys. And can you guess where the girls hung out??..... the swamp....with the gators. We fed them and held them . It was just like the Pirates of the Caribbean only in the daylight, but plenty creepy to tide me over for a while. The swamp was just how one would imagine with rickety shacks, moss, cypress tress, snakes and gators galore.

I also spent a little time at a Plantation called Oak Alley. The picture below is the row of trees leading up to the house. I have adored "Gone with the Wind" since I was a wee one and this was the most opulent and grandeur home I had ever visited. Not because of the house itself, but because of its grounds. The only regret I had while visiting was that my mom wasn't there with me. I know she would have adored it just as much as I did and I know she would have been thinking about Rhett Butler the whole time too.

The city of New Orleans was a bit indescribable....but I'll try. It's hot and humid and muggy, and for a Wyoming girl with frizzy unruly hair, it was impossible to be pretty. I have a new respect for southern bells and their beauty..or their ability to stay dry in the humid air. The humidity brings a certain feel to the whole city though. The music flows as fast and as hard as the Mississippi, and the jazz is haunty. It's upbeat in sad way. It's a bold and audacious town. Unapologetic for it's brash behaviors. Bourbon street is like none other I've seen and I'm glad to say I witnessed it with my own two eyes. It's primarily a Catholic region which is something that surprised me. They do not have southern accents...they speak with somewhat of a Brooklyn/ Creole accent instead which also surprised me. A good number of the tourists had southern drawls though. There were art galleries on every corner and everything is displayed with pride in its beauty, no matter what that definition of beauty might be. Superstition is a pastime and adds to the mysteriousness of the city.

The town has really come together to rebuild itself. We saw a little of the damage that was done. We did not visit the 9th ward though. Some of the stories we heard were horrific, but it's getting better. It will just take time.

Late August Glow

There's always a glow in late August that wraps itself around everything. It's warm and it tries to hold on for as long as it can, but every now and again a little hint of fall brushes the back of your neck. Especially in the evenings. This time of year always seems to bring change. Natural most of the time. Sometimes not so natural. I remember this same kind of glow when I growing up. It meant slowing down, becoming excited for school. (Yes, I was a nerd who got excited about school) When I got older, I remember it when I would leave the gym from a hard practice. Muscles aching. I remember it coming through my window as I packed for college and again looking out the window of the dorm at my new found freedom. I remember it warming my first home. I remember......
Today I made a new memory. The late August sun shone through my little boy's hair, which at this time is the exact same color as mine. The day passed slowly in a fast way. Just like a late August day does. We caught grasshoppers. That's what he wanted to do. Mind you I haven't caught grasshoppers since that one time when my brother and I went set off to catch them for fishing and one jumped in my mouth. That was that...no more grasshopper catching for me....until today. I held one in my hand after stalking it for a little while. It tickled my fingers and squirmed. It crawled onto my finger to which I held up to my son. He screamed and giggled and ran away. A minute later he asked to get another.
Ahhh... how I love the late August glow.

Little Buckaroos

I love it when little ones are this adorable. When their personality just shines through their eyes. When they get along and hug each other. It melts my heart.



I also love it when big brothers look tough....but you can tell that deep down, they are soft.

The Ride Home

On the way home to Cheyenne today I decided to take a little detour through the country in Platte County. As a kid that didn't really have a hometown, this was closest thing I had to roots. My grandparents lived here, right down the road from these fields. I spent weekends and weeks up until the end of college with my grandmother here on the opposite side of a cribbage board. We would talk about everything and shared secrets. She would cuss in German at me if she lost too many games. We watched reruns of "I Love Lucy" everynight. She wore high heels every time she went to town. She wore lipstick everyday. Her nails were always done. She was insanely creative and always had some sort of project going on. She was argumentative. She taught me that polka dancing was cool (yes I know how to polka dance, and I won't lie, I'm good) As an adult I inherited many of her traits. I miss waking up at the farm and seeing the fields and the corn and the mean dog my grandpa used to keep.
When I got back on the highway I passed a church which had a sign that read "don't live in the past it has no future"...... I don't think it hurts to visit it every now and then though.

I Rode Big Red

Ironically so, I grew up around horses. I don't own cowboy boots. I don't attend rodeos, though I'm smack dab in the middle of cowboy country. I just became very indifferent to them as a child. It's probably all because of that one time when I got bit by a little rascal of a horse when I was about 9 years old. Made me mad. That was that.We were no longer friends. As an adult I've become almost afraid of them. I love animals. Love to watch them. But when it comes to riding them and telling them what do to, I know in the end a horse will have the upper hand. I haven't been on a horse in 20 years. Today I rode one. My parents were so proud. My son rode a horse today for the first time as well. His was about 10 times smaller than mine and I secretly wished I could have ridden that one instead because I knew the fall wouldn't hurt as bad. I made it out alive. It wasn't so bad. Maybe I'll try it again someday.... in 20 or so years.
By the way, for those that know the heel clad, skirt wearing girly girl.... this is what I look like when I jump out of bed, and jump on a horse in the same shirt I wore to sleep in the night before.

Summer Sangria

Since summertime is fading away before my eyes, closing in on the end as I wish and pray it would just stay on a little longer. Keep me company for just a little bit longer. I jump at every chance I get to sit outside and enjoy her warmth. This month, it's been sparse with all the rain and flooding. ...yes flooding....in Wyoming of all places. The weather has been a bit precarious this year to say the least. Unexpected in every way.
Back to enjoying it though. With wine. Mmmmm wine. End of summer always has beautiful harvests of berries and this time of year you can actually buy them locally without taking out a loan for them at the farmers market. Mmmm berries. So that's what I did. I mixed the two.
There are a zillion different recipes for Sangria. Basically, what it all boils down to, is preferences. Sweet. Not sweet. Lighter. Darker. I tend to lean toward the un-sweetened kind. For this concoction I mixed a Pinot Noir with club soda. (a lot of recipes call for lime flavored soda pop). About half and half. I poured it over cut strawberries, blueberries and table grapes (which I used mainly because they looked so cute and their slogan made me laugh out loud in the grocery store) I cut an orange in half. One half I sliced, put into the wine and the other I squeezed into the mixture. I added about a teaspoon of honey and put it in the fridge to marinate. Mmmm marinated wine. 6 hours later, it was ready.

I sat in the back yard at my little glass table and enjoyed the sun. For just a minute before it rained.

This can also be made with non-alcoholic wine so the kiddos can share with you. I really didn't want to share.

Littleness

Isn't it blissfully sweet when they go into a "milk coma" after eating? They are content. They are happy. They have no worries in the world. Bliss.



And isn't it precious when they have a big brother that is so naturally a big brother?

Another Year Gone By

Well I can't stop them from growing and becoming little people before my eyes. So the best I can do is preserve their little personalities for just a minute.
By the way...can you tell it's football season around here already!?!

Home

I know that I complain a lot about the climate of my state. It's too windy. It's too snowy. It's to this or that. Most people wonder why I live here. As do I sometimes. And then there are days when I wake up to this. I love these scenes. Every time I look at them I think to myself that some people will never see this. Some people might not ever get to experience this and that makes me lucky. This is my home.

Bonkers for Honkers

Since the year I moved here, I've been involved with the Race For The Cure. It's a 5K walk/ race and I think it has become a wonderful community supported event. It's proceeds go to an outstanding cause. Our team name this year, "Bonkers for Honkers", though most likely inappropriate on a regular day basis, was perfect for the event. I think it even rallied the "Hiking for Healthy Hooters" team. This was my first year walking without my little Oli, but I thought of him happily while I walked with my little boy instead.

I would like to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart that donated to our team. Everything was greatly appreciated.

Terrifically Terrible

Butting heads with my little one has been a daily occurance lately. Tonight I told my husband that I was thinking of selling him on the black market if his attitude didn't improve.
The response: "we probably wouldn't make much on one with a bad attitude"...... I laughed. It was just the right response. I guess I'll keep him.
Besides....after looking at the photos of him tonight. After venting frustrations, I wouldn't know what to do without him.

Complicated Pie

This recipe is probably the easiest pie I have ever made. Which is why I'm going to give it a complicated name, the kind of name I hate, but think this deserves: cream-cheese-Oreo pudding-milk-whipped cream-with chocolate-shaved-bunny ears pie.

Bunny Ears??????

Yes, bunny ears. I save the chocolate I don't let my son scarf for Easter. (don't get me wrong, he gets to scarf, but there is normally kind of a limit) I freeze it and use it for things like this. Yes it is still good. Freezing preserves chocolate for a very long time.

Here's what you do.

Mix a pack of cream cheese with 1/2 cup of milk until it's smooth. Add the box of Oreo pudding (you can actually use any kind, but this kind just called to me since I don't have enough self control to keep Oreos in my house, I have to buy the pudding instead and make things like this and take to someone else to eat) with another 1 1/2 cups of milk. Mix until creamy. Put it in a graham cracker crust. Whip up some whipped cream with heavy whipping cream and a little powdered sugar (can you tell by now that I have a thing about homemade whipped cream) or you can buy the cool whip and throw it on there. Grate a little bunny ear or other baking chocolate of your choice and cool for just a little bit. MMMMMMM. See....easy as pie!!!

Fashion Forward

Is there anything more fun than coloring on your clothes? I found these awesome markers that you just color with on fabric. Then you either iron or dry them for a little bit and wooooohoooo!!!...there you go, you have fantastic, fabulously decorated clothing.

Park made a shirt for himself and one for me. I've never worn anything that I was more proud of. I think we might even start our own clothing line. I'll just gather up a bunch of 2 year olds and let them have at it. It would be wonderfully fun!!! And very chic at the same time.

As you can see... we tried for a "together" photo, but apparently I forgot that there was even a camera in front of me and he seemed to think tickling was much more important.