Sweet Potatoes, Salsa, and Chowder

Ruby took it upon herself to feed Dempsey her Sweet Potatoes. She actually did a pretty good job.

Brian made some delicious salsa, it is the first time he has ever made it and it is awesome. Of course I have come to expect this kind of culinary excellence from him because of his track record.

A while back, I caught Gwen putting honey on tortilla chips. I witheld my initial reaction of disgust and said "Wow Gwen, that is SO great that you are trying new things, I'm really proud of you!" Which turned out to be a good thing to say, because I wanted her to try Brian's salsa and I said, "Remember how you are trying new things." And so she tried it, and she promptly spit it out.

Poor Dempsey happened to be crawling under Gwen's chair when the spitting out occurred.

We've spoken of Sweet Potatoes, Salsa, and lastly, here is Chowder. This is our new dog. He is a Boston Terrier/Pug mix. (Chowder---Boston, get it?) I think he is a tinge ugly, and Brian thinks he is cute. Which is quite alarming, since Brian also thinks that I am cute.

The Chop Job

In just a few unsupervised minutes, Ruby's hair went from this:


To this:

At the hands of who else but:

When I walked into the house, returning from student teaching, and saw the aftermath of the orange safety scissors that were supposed to make wonderful crafts; I cried, no, I sobbed and wept and wailed. But luckily, we took Ruby to a very talented hairdresser who transformed Ruby's crypt-keeper look into this:

Yer not from 'round here, are ya?

I was at Wal-Mart very late one night, (yes, all of the strange and interesting things in our life seem to happen at Wal-Mart, we really are hicks). Anyway, so I was there really late one night to get some medicine, and in front of me in line was a group of teenagers. The strange thing about these teenagers is that they were all really, extremely fashionable. They looked as if they came straight from an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog photo shoot. I found myself trying really hard not to stare at them and I just kept thinking "Where are they from?!" I almost asked them, because I was sure they couldn't be from our little hick town, I was sure they were from Orange County, CA or the like.

I didn't ask them, I should have asked them, this story would probably be a lot better if I had.

But anyway, I was reflecting on that moment the next day and it reminded me of when I was a young, trendy, ridiculously good looking college kid driving home to Richland WA from Provo UT. On the way home I stopped at the Wendys in Twin Falls ID. When I went inside the Wendys it seemed like everybody stopped eating and stared at me! I couldn't figure out why--now I know, and anyone reading this who is from a small and/or rural town knows too. It's the "Yer not from 'round here, are ya?" stare. Either that or I had a big booger hanging out of my nose.

Woo-hoo Happy Fourth of July!!!

So yeah, a little late, but here are some pictures from the Fourth.

Gwen and Ruby holding hands coming out of the pancake breakfast at church.

Brian, Gwen and Ruby posing outside the church.

Brian and the girls walking to the parade. We made little festive wands for the girls to wave at the parade, I was so excited for them to wave them in excitement as the floats passed . . . Well, Gwen and Ruby stood back a good safe distance from the curb studying the floats with furrowed brows while their mommy stood like an overly enthusiastic goofball waving the wands.

Girls in their red, white, and blue.

The Takedown at Wal*Mart

Wal-Mart is a particularly menacing place lately. You think, how can Wal-Mart get more menacing? Here in Carlsbad they have only been utilizing about three checkers maximum at all hours of the day. Waiting forty five minutes to purchase your goods is no longer an exaggeration of weary shoppers, it is now the spot-on truth.



So anyway, Brian had just gotten through one of the offending forty-five minute waits. Anger curdled inside of him as his Wal-mart tolerance is low to begin with. As Brian was leaving the store he couldn't help but notice a young man walking out the door with a flat-panel TV hoisted on his shoulder. "Wait Sir!" creaked the feeble elderly greeter. This was the perfect opportunity for Brian to expel some built-up Wal-mart angst.



So off Brian went with his cart, pushing a heavy basket full of food and our three-year-old daughter Gwen, he resembled a Jamaican bobsledder. Adrenalin pumping through his veins. Flip-flops pounding into the black top. Blazing through the parking lot after the not-so-bright thief (what kind of thief has his getaway car and driver PARKED in the parking lot?).



"I'm Scared!" yelled Gwen who was buckled in the child's seat.



"No Gwen, It's FUN! We're getting a bad guy!"



Brian finally caught up to the thief and clipped him in the heels. A young man saw what was going on and arrived at the heel clipping just in time to catch the TV. The thief ran to the getaway car empty-handed, and as the getaway car backed out of its space for a speedy escape (sarcasm), I believe someone got the license plate number.



Brian the the other man had to wait a few minutes before any Wal-mart employees came out. When they did come out to retrieve the television, there was not so much as a thank you. But maybe Brian should be thanking them, he hasn't seen that much action since he hurled a screwdriver at his brother and it stuck in Colin's arm.