Is this the laundry room?

Dirty

















Clean

I have never done so much laundry in one day as I did when we got back from the camping trip. And it was a Sunday too.
Everything was slightly damp and sandy. That is to say, everything except the things that were very damp and sandy.
Altogether a delight.
I washed it all in one day. The next day I folded. It took an hour and a half of constant folding with the baby napping and no TV on to distract.

Blissfully barefoot

I cannot abide flip flops on the beach. Sand gets between the strap and the top of my foot and rubs and that is not comfortable. Besides, unless the sand is too hot why would you want to wear shoes of any kind on the beach?
So, after a spell on the beach I walked back up the stairs to the campsite where we spent the week. Previously to this, I had put my flops back on, either when I reached the bottom of the stairs, or when, eventually, I reached the top of them. This time I must have been distracted, because I remained barefoot.
A spell down the road I noticed the marvelous feeling of asphalt under my feet.
It has been some time since I've walked barefoot on asphalt. I love the texture, rough but not so much that it is painful.
After a whole summer of shoelessness ones feet will be tough enough to walk on it when its hot and slightly squishy.
I didn't put shoes back on. I walked in the soft dirt, on the grass mats that kept the campsite as clean as such can be, in the mulch under the trees where the kids dug after it was too late to dig in the sand on the beach, on the smooth concrete of the side walk.
Finally I reshod my feet when I had to go to the bathroom. Cold tile would have been a nice addition to the collage of textures, but going barefoot into a public restroom is just not something I am willing to do.



Baby boy likes to feel sand between his wee toes too.

Degeneration of Society

I was standing in line in Carl's Jr when I something caught my attention.
There was an old woman shamelessly sipping diet coke from a complimentary water cup. Then I looked at her husband. Sure enough, he too had a water cup. His was filled with lemonade. Before they left the woman went back to the soda fountain and stole another 12 oz of diet cola for the road.
Now, Maybe there was some kind of mix-up, or maybe they asked for small drinks and when handed the size small cups they found them to be too large and asked for something even smaller. I should think the best of people instead of assuming the worst.
The thing is, we are not big soda drinkers around here. We always end up with at least one water cup when we go out. I usually either get bottled water or soda because I am spoiled and can't drink tap water without gagging, but Baby Girl prefers to have the cup and The Mr. doesn't mind water that tastes like chlorine-dirt punch so he often gets the water cup too.
As I fill the water cups at the fountain I am always aware that I could easily steal a few cents worth of soda if I wished it and I hope that someone is actually watching to see that I do not. It is just one of my quirks.
I have always imagined that people ask for the free cup and put soda in it but I have always imagined those people to be teenagers, some who like to break rules and boast obnoxiously about it, and others who sneakily fill the cup with sprite so their dishonest soda acquisition will not be so painfully obvious.
Old ladies who wear peds with their golden orthopedic sandals, carry large hand bags, and have a better knowledge of the Alfred Dunner inventory at "Pennys" (these women don't bother them selves with saying the "JC") than do the sales associates are not supposed to do things like this.
Perhapse it is a result of Diet Coke addiction. Maybe the woman's coin purse ran dry that day in Carl's Jr and she couldn't get along without her Diet Coke so she sent her husband to the counter to ask for water cups and then made him fill his with lemonade so if by chance she was discovered she could more convincingly play the "In my day the hamburger salesman filled your drink for you, I don't know how this new fangled self serve beverage system works" card.
Oh, Maude, (this I imagine was her name) how could you?

Obviously

I did not blog on my trip. I had a lovely time though. I have a list of seven posts I'd like to write about the trip and other things. Unfortunately I also have a gigantic pile of laundry to fold, a Birthday party to plan, joy-school lessons to prepare, a Halloween costume to finish for the joy-school Halloween party on Thursday for which I also need to make cookies, and a baby who will not nap on account of he learned how to stand up in bed, so every time I put him in up he stands. So don't hold your breath.

We're going to the beach, the beach, the beach

In the morning.
For a week.
Baby Girl watched "The Wonder Pets Save the Hermit Crab" This afternoon in preparation. She's been breaking out in choruses of "We're going to the beach, the beach, the beach" all day.
She also informed me that she is not a big girl, she is a little girl and as such she will not be able to swim by herself at the beach. She will need me to hold onto her, and she certainly will not be able to go under the water being as little a girl as she is. I guess she remembers something from swim lessons after all.
I hear there is internet access at the camp ground so hopefully I'll be able to blog beachily all week long.
Wish me luck!

Wow

The other day I stopped for gas at a brand new gas station. The grand opening celebration was in progress as I pumped.
Look at how clean that gas pump is! I was so impressed I took a photo to share with you all. I have never in all of my days seen such a clean gas pump.
The best part was the hose. I usually have to fight with the hose a bit because it is all twisted up from use and it wants to go every direction except toward my gas tank. Not this time! The hose was fully co-operational.
I would swear to buy gas from that establishment exclusively in the future but I am sure that by now the pump is grimy and the hose is ready for a wrestling match so it wouldn't do me any good.

My tiny boy is all growed up.

Last week we went to the park and my Tiny Boy had his first swinging experience. He did not scream and cry like his sister did when she first experienced the swing. He quite liked it. How cute is he all tiny in that great big swing?
Baby Girl has just recently come around where swings are concerned. I don't know if she likes them as much as I do, but she likes them and that is good enough for me.

Things I say at least three times a day

To Baby Girl-
You need to go potty before you get some pee pee in your pants.
I love you
Because that's what it is
You need to clean up the toys first
Not right now
That song does not belong to you, songs are for everybody to sing.
Share with your brother
That's not ok
Yeah Baby?


To Tiny Boy-
Hi Handsome/Baby
Do you need a new diap?
I love you
Are you hungry?
Are you sleepy?
Stop getting the puppy food.
Do you love your sister?
Don't bite your mama!


I can thing of very few positive things I repeat throughout the day. I guess I should work on that.

my best idea this year

I want to be the ugly stepsisters for Halloween. Not ugly stepsisters from any telling of Cinderella, though any incarnation of them would be riotous. I want to be Anastasia and Druzella. I am only one person so I'd have to have a friend in the endeavour, but it would be so much fun.
I have a formula for bouncy bustles working in my head. The bustles on my Stepsister ensembles would be fantastic.
There is a problem with being a step sister myself. I am not a tall boy-figured type as they are. I should probably stick with a general step sister for myself and make the bouncy bustles for a pair of evenly sized pre-teens.
Maybe Lily will have a friend or sister to be stepsisters with when she is a pre-teen.
I'd love to make them for my nieces but, alas, the problem of not living in the same state with my family again rears it's ugly head.