We Went Strawberry Picking Yesterday

"Dis strawberry has a weird bottom, Mama."

When you're missing your two front teeth, eating on of the side of your mouth is out of necessity.

Behold: yesterday's outfit. Not pictured: very old white patent-leather church shoes.

She Sleeps Like Her Daddy

Happy 8 Years of Mah-wage to Us

Dear Go,

I not only love you, but I really, really like you as well.

Love,
Me

Lindsey Buckingham, I Applaude You, Your Crazy Fingers and Your Girly Name

I've never really been into Fleetwood Mac,
but how on earth have I lived almost 29 years
without being aware of this RAD song?

Still Shooting Up the Place

I know I haven't said anything about photography in awhile, but I'm still doing photography gigs when I can. The photography blog has now been updated after a hefty hiatus. There will also be more to come as I have four more shoots in the next couple of weeks. Splendid! Click the "annie reynolds photography" link on the sidebar if you dare. Or if you care. Bear. Share. Mare. Hair. La-la-la-la-la.

All Three

Ruby: It was her last day of school today. She said she's both happy and sad. Happy "that she gets to take naps again" but sad because she "won't see her friends every day." Ruby loves to sleep. She's actually sleeping right now.

The First Day of Kindergarten: August 2008

The Last Day of Kindergarten: June 2009

May: The fashionista. She dresses herself everyday, from head to toe and decides on the hair style/accessories. I never know what she'll put together and very rarely do I make her change. I do, however, insist that her bottom crack not show, which happens most of the time because she has the smallest bum ever. Oh, she sooooo got it from me. (said very, very sarcastically)

"I want to weeeear my froggy boots, Mama.
Do you want to weeeear you boots?
I wike you boots, Mama.
Do you wike my boots?
Dey have froggies on dem."

Her current favorite pose.
It looks almost natural when she's sitting down
but not so much when she's standing,
but that doesn't stop her.

Olive: This one loves attention. Oh my. The flirting with the random public has officially begun. She smiles with her whole body--simultaneous wriggling and smiling. She sings/coos to the radio and has turned into a great napper but has started waking up more in the night than she used to. She's also an early riser--ready to party at 6 am every morning, which of course is a horrible combination for me but I'm hoping this will end soon and she'll settle back into only waking up once a night or not at all opposed to every 3 hours. She's working hard on sitting up and grabbing her feet. She's just about there with the grabbing but the sitting still needs some work.

Yes, Mom. You are seeing a faint dimple there.
There's another one on the other side, too.
Rejoice!
There's that foot I was talking about.

Still trying to grab the foot.I love it when she makes this face.

I love them.

Lately

Our wedding anniversary is coming up--eight years. Most of the time, it seems to me that Go and I have been married a really long time. That wasn't meant as a hee-hee-hee-playful-yet-loving-jab-in-the-ribs; we've been through a lot during the past 8 years, so it seems like even longer than that to me most of the time.

Tonight though, I was lying on our bed with the girls, getting ready for our nightly prayer/hug ritual. We were waiting for Go and I found myself mentally putting "eight years" into different references, like "That's the length of high school and college combined!" and "That's the length between ages 11 and 19!" It was just weird, as I lay on the bed surrounded by my girls and thought about all that had happened and what had been produced in that length of time. Suddenly, it seemed like just yesterday I was standing there at my wedding reception, very young and stoked to realize that I had just married a guy who had longer hair than I did. I couldn't have been happier and neither could he.

So it's been eight years and we're still in sync, even when we don't mean to be. Today it was discovered that we had inadvertently been working toward the same goal: to be happy whatever we're doing, wherever we are.

His goal stemmed from a work/home standpoint. When he's at work, he should focus on enjoying the process of cutting people open and sewing them back together in an aesthetically pleasing fashion rather than focusing on how long he's been there, how tired he is and how many days its been since he's seen his girls. And when he's home, he needs to let go of the stresses of work and bask in the golden glory of the Reynolds women.

I, on the other hand, have been trying to live in the moment and enjoy each day, despite the issues I have with my current location. I need to quit the ever-going internal "I Don't Belong on the East Coast" pity party and realize it's not where I am, but what I am that matters. For me, this stems from the knowledge that Olive could be my second-to-last baby. That sentence sounds ridiculous, but really, just thinking about it makes me verklempt. I love my babies--I love all babies, period and I don't want it to end. If I could hold babies for the rest of my life, I'd be in heaven. I remember confessing to my room mate back in college, Katie, that I didn't really want to get married, I just wanted a baby. This was before I met Go. Oooobvsiously. Katie laughed, probably thought I was kidding, perhaps an attempted slam against the male race, which wasn't something out of the ordinary, but I really wasn't joking; I was completely serious. I wondered how many girls were there at BYU wanting a baby more than a husband, like I was. I wondered if they had the same sudden urge, when they were just walking around campus maneuvering through the sea of smiling faces, trying not to take anyone out with their giant art portfolio and of course not cutting corners, when out of the clear blue Utah sky, SLAM! they wanted, no, NEEDED to hold a baby, any baby. Right then. Did they NEED to shmush chubby smooth skin, kiss a soft velvety cheek and run their hands over a crop of fluffy hair? Did they NEED a tiny but strong grasp around their finger and to be looked at with clear, bright eyes? My whole body would just ache to hold a baby, but there I was, shlepping around Provo, totally babyless, much to my Bishop and my parent's delight/relief.

This feeling actually first began with a chimpanzee when I was probably 10 or so. My brothers and I were watching some show and the guy carried around a monkey in a diaper. It was like lightening had struck. I HAD to hold a chimpanzee. I physically yearned to carry around a diapered monkey. I remember professing this to John and Joe and they were both like "Yah! How cool would it be to just walk around holding a monkey?" I like my brothers. They get me.

So that's what I'm doing--realizing that what I'm doing right now, every day, is exactly what I wanted my whole life. It doesn't matter that it's not where I want to be, but it matters what I'm doing and who I am. Even though I still have never held a monkey wearing a diaper, I'm a mother of three ridiculously fun girls and I married a guy who used to have longer hair than me and I love it. This is the life I wanted all along.

Summer is approaching and I have loads of things planned. This summer, I want to teach my girls how to make the most of each day and bask in the glory that is right now and enjoy being who we are right now. This is their childhood. These are the years our family will look back on and long to have back. So right now, I think I'm going to go kiss Go and tell him that these past 8 years have been rad and I love who we are right now.

So, uh, big gulps huh?

Today I took in cookies to Ruby's classroom. I wore Olive in the
BabyBjorn (and got totally mauled by grubby little kindergartners). A
liitle boy shoved into the crowd and tugged on my shirt. I looked
down, said hello and the kid goes "My sister has a baby!" and I said
something like "You're an uncle! That's awesome!" and he's says very
matter-of-factly, "No, not really. My sister's really young. She's
only 18."

"Hiking"

This week marked the official beginning of Go's plastic surgery training and official ending of his general surgery training. These last three months, he's had elective rotations and has had an AWESOME schedule, meaning: Monday through Friday, 8 to 5. This may be normal to the rest of the modern world, but to our family, it's been a whole new world. A new fantastic point of view. Yes, it was that good. Disney-song good. It was grand. It was glorious. It was dishes being done by someone besides myself. It was having him home for dinner every night. It was having him carry the girls upstairs up to their beds at a normal bedtime hour. It was being able to stay up late with him whenever we wanted. It was, well, fantastic. Aaaand all that came to a screeching halt yesterday as he started his plastic surgery training, woke up at 5 am, worked all day and night, didn't get home until almost midnight and woke up this morning at 5 to do it all over again. This will be the next 3 years of our lives. Just stating the facts. I'm excited we're halfway through residency but will miss him after being spoiled for three months. See ya in three years, Go. It's been real.

This past weekend, we went on what Ruby kept calling a "hike," but really, it was more like "a walk somewhere besides our neighborhood." Here are some pictures from our strenuous hiking adventure. Disclaimer: these pictures were taken with a point and shoot and most of them, not by me. Not that they're bad...again, just stating facts...

"Mom! Come sit in here with us! It smells like poop!"
Well, by all means. What better place to take a rest?This shot was taken after Ruby, because her blood sugar was high, had to pee really, really bad. A bathroom was no where in sight on our hike through the forest.
I helped her hang herself over the railing and got sprayed with urine.
I'm pretty sure I know why this little hut smells the way it does.

The girls looking out the poop-hut's windows. "Look, Mom! I can see my pee from here!"

A man and his baby.

The girls.

"AAALL-LUUUUV!"
translation: "Olive!"
this shot was taken during the "luuuuv" part.

This is what I do all day long, just not usually in the middle of a forest.

Refreshment.

Aw. How tender.

Our House is the Tooth Fairy's Favorite

Week 11

I'm indecisive...
and you're reaping all the benefits...
(said a la Jon Lovitz in The Wedding Singer)
...enter slow, creepy curtain-close here...

I have almost the exact same picture of Ruby in this position at this same age
and they look SO much alike.
When I have more time, I will do an Olive/Ruby comparison post.

She is very excited about something.

She gave me just a little smile this time even though
she SMILES ALMOST ALL DAY LONG IF I DON'T HAVE A CAMERA IN MY HAND
grrr!

Those are some serious lips.

Me and My Sister Are Sad About Her Blister

School is starting to wind down for Ruby. Today she brought home her "Kid Writing" journals which consisted of a short little one, two or three sentence-entries the kids would write every couple of days. Each entry was accompanied by a picture. Ruby really progressed throughout the year; it's cool to see tangible improvement in terms of spelling and handwriting. Now she spells just about every word correctly whereas the beginning of the year, the words were sounded out very phonetically. She also writes much smaller than she did in the beginning of the year. (*Excuse me while I brag: during my parent-teacher conference a couple of months ago, her teacher told me she was the best reader in the class. I was so proud. Not surprised, just very proud.) She and I sat down after school and read through them today. Here are some of my favorites entries:

Oct. 28, 2008: Me and my sister are sad about her blister.
Ruby: Mom, why are you laughing? May had a blister.

Nov. 11, 2008: Cats purr and are lazy. They eat cat food.

Nov. 14, 2008: I drove my sister to America on the Mayflower.
Ruby: Get it? Because her name is MAY!

Dec. 15, 2008: At night, Rudolf came into my room. I was awake but May was asleep. Rudolf wanted to lick me.

Feb. ?, 2009: My Dad shaved off his mustache. (In the picture, she is crying.)

March 3, 2009: There are a "shotel" living under my bed. At night, he sneaked under my sheets and tickled my feet.
Me: Ruby, what's a shotel?
Ruby: I don't know. It was my story, so I just made something up.

March 5, 2009: The Klo that glowed followed me home. She was so cute. I gave her a boot and kept her as my pet!
Me: So what's a Klo?
Ruby: I told you! These are my stories and I just make stuff up!

April ?, 2009: If I see a person throwing a cigarette in the recycling can or on the ground, I will tell them to throw it in the trash can.
Ruby: Woops. I meant to write "if I see a person throwing a cigarette in the trash can, I will tell them to throw it in the recycling."
Me: Because if they're going to smoke around you, the least they can do is recycle, right?
Ruby: Right. I think smoking is gross.
Me: You're right. Smoking is gross.
Ruby: And bad for you.
Me:Very bad for you.
Ruby: But if someone smokes, that doesn't mean they're a bad person. They just didn't make a a good choice.
Me: Right. That's very wise of you.
Ruby: You told me that.
Me: Oh. Right.

April 29, 2009: The slimy red worm squirmed up the brown horse's leg. She squirmed up its back and down it's tail.
Me: Ew, that's kind of gross, Rubes.
Ruby: Why?
Me: It just sort of is.
Ruby: Yah, I know. But I really wanted to write a story about a worm and that's all I could think of.

Olive Is Not Impressed

We Are At The Circus

Pretty Much My Theme Song Right Now

...and not just because I really want a kelly green swim suit this summer...

Classic Olive

I just got an ultra wide/macro lens for some projects I have coming up and was outside with the girlees testing it. Olive chilled underneath the pull-down shade in her car seat while her sisters happily shrieked and blew bubbles around her. She loves just sitting and listening to them. This shot is titled "Classic Olive." Not only is it typical of Olive because of the smidgen of spit up in the corner of her mouth and the bit of goop in her eye, but this is the look she has on her face when she's not smiling or sleeping. I can't wait until she starts talking just to hear the things she'll have to say...

Week 10

Behold,
the chub.

"Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon", he sang. And he was right.

Back in the day when I was single, like a black widow spider plays a deadly game catching unassuming flies with her web, I used to catch boys with music. No, no, no, not music I sang or played (gawfah!), but a deadly combination of knowledge and taste--usually of the classic rock variety. I'd start by asking about their musical preference and if the words "country" or "Creed" was included in their response, I was out the door quicker than you could say Crosby, Stills and Nash. If their musical taste was acceptable, then it was game on. Oh you know I'd first lure them in with a "You know, Led Zeppelin got their name from when Keith Moon told him that their band would go over like a lead zeppelin," which was a double whammy because that also implied that I knew who Keith Moon was. And then maybe a one-two punch with some commentary about Bob Dylan or David Bowie. Then a little while later, I'd bring out the big guns and make parallels between acceptable modern artists and classic rock gods and then, AND THEN, I'd make them a mixed tape of lesser known artists with classic rock roots and if I was really set on sealing the deal, an elaborate cover was made for the cassette. The more colorful it was, the more interested I was. Or more desperate for physical affection. Or more bored and in need of pointless drama. Usually all three.

My freshman year at college was when I first feasted my eyes on Go and I was instantly intrigued. I knew if I just had the guts to turn around in art history class and talk music with him, he'd be mine. But I was chicken. He was a boy without a real name, just dubbed "Art History Boy." Then my sophomore year, when my roomie Katie came home talking about a "Brandon Reynolds" she ate lunch with, I asked if she was interested in him, she shrugged and said "Actually, you guys would be great together," but I didn't end up meeting him until a year later and made the connection that this kid standing in front of me with greasy overalls on was Art History Boy AND The Brandon Reynolds. I remember asking Katie about his taste in music because honestly, those overalls really threw me. (Insert Go's urgent "THAT WAS WHAT I WORE FOR MY WINDOW WASHING JOB! I HAD JUST GOTTEN OFF OF WORK! GEEZ!") "Um, I think I remember him talking about Jimi Hendrix..." Allright. We can hang, I decided. On our first date, he did not wear overalls. Score five points for that one. Then he serenaded me with Neil Diamond. Scored some more points there for humor but I was still a little iffy if Neil was all he listened to. Did this guy just sit in his car with his overalls on and listen to Hot August Nights? I played it cool and waited until our second or third date when I ventured into his glove box and found several obscure artists who I also was into. "You know G Love and the Special Sauce?" I said and he was like "Yeeyah. I practically invented G Love and the Special Sauce." Katie was right. We were a good match. And it was done. The game was over. I tagged out and that was the last time I ever played the game.

Looking back, it never ceased to amaze me what kind of powers just liking cool music had. I mean, I was averagely cute, but let's be honest, I was no super model. I did not stop people in their tracks with my looks. Guys didn't get in car accidents because I walked down the street. What I had going for me was that I listened to cool tunes and I got their jokes quicker than most other girls and I did all right with the fellas.

But I always wonder, if I wasn't as into music as I was, would I had the same dating experience? Would I have married the man I married? What if I was really into model airplanes? Or Chinese Checkers? Or Steven Segal? Or the English translations of Spanish writers? What would my life be like? I had a little taste of this the other day when I went into Borders. After reading The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon a couple of years ago, I have been waiting for his second book to be translated into English. This book wasn't exactly a household name--it was no DaVinci Code or Tuesdays with Morrie as far as popularity goes but seriously 100 times better than both. Not knowing whether to look for Ruiz or Zafon, I asked a Borders employee and he furrowed his brow behind his coke bottle glasses and was like "Hm. That's a good question. Who exactly are you looking for?" and I said "Carlos Ruiz Zafon" and I swear to you, it was like I was in college again and I had busted out with the Eric Clapton/George Harrison/Pattie Boyd love triangle story behind Clapton's song "Layla." His gigantic pupils turned into the shapes of hearts and he was all "You know Carlos Ruiz Zafon?" and continued to follow me around the store like a puppy for the next hour. I think he wanted to have my babies. And those babies would grow up reading awesome authors but probably listen to Hoobastank, Nickelback and the like. I'll take Go and his Neil Diamond and his Harry Nilsson and his G-Love and his Andrew Bird and his Josh Ritter and his Simon and Garfunkle and his Okkervil River his Bell X1 and his Glasvegas and his Ryan Adams and his Spoon any day.

This is How Uneventful My Life is Right Now

I actually considered writing a post dedicated to some funny underwear
I saw on some dude the other day. Huh? What? Oh calm down people. I
attended a spin class (which soooooo isn't as much fun as teaching,
but that has started back up again thank goodness) and the guy in the
bike directly in front of me was wearing a tshirt small enough that it
didn't cover the waistband of his underwear that was sticking up above
his shorts. All along the elastic, instead of saying "Fruit of the
Loom" or "Calvin Klein" or what have you, it said "Blah Blah Blah" and
I found that hilarious. I guess I did just write a post about it
afterall...
...things are pretty slow around here, which is a good thing, I guess.
Sometimes no news is good news.

Sent from my iPhone

Said with 100% Innocence

Ruby actually said this awhile ago but it's still funny:

"Mommy, you know Allie in my class? Well, she's sort of chubby. But I would never tell her that because it would hurt her feelings. I like her like that, though. I think she'd be good to sleep with because she'd be soft."

Oh Happy Day

See this face? This face decided she'd give her mom a break and sleep
through the night last night. I will be kissing this squishy face all
day long, which I would be doing regardless of me getting uninterupted
sleep for the first time in months. Everything is just a little
brighter, a little shinier, a little squishier today.

Taken From Out My Car Window Just Now

...only in PA's Target parking lots...

Week 9

I just couldn't decide which one to pick.
She is so much fun.

If You Can't Blog Something Nice, Do Not Blog At All

I had nothing to blog about whatsoever, so I started blogging about something that wasn't necessarily nice--how hitch-hiker thumbs weird me out, which would of course, put any of my readers with hitch-hiker thumbs on the defensive, so I decided not to blog about it. If you went to my high school, you learned in 10th grade Biology that hitch-hiker thumbs are genetic so you weirdos out there with your bent back thumbs can't help that your thumbs are all crazy. But I'm not going to blog about that. Because it's not very nice.

Happy Mother's Day to Me?

Friday, Ruby's awesome kindergarten teacher hosted a "Mother's Day Tea." All the Moms came to the classroom, sat with their child, did some activities, were presented with gifts, were sang to and then we had a little party with refreshments and music. It was really cute.

One of the things I was presented with was an information sheet filled out about me by Ruby.

My mom's name is Annie.
My mom has brown hair and blue eyes.
She is 10 feet tall and weighs 88 pounds.
My mom likes to eat mushrooms.
My mom is happy when I get along with my sister.
My mom's favorite TV show is Chuck.
My mom is smart. She knows all about spin.
If my mom would have one wish come true, it would be to have her birthday every day.
I love my mom because when I had a grey tooth she let me have ice cream with caramel on it and we didn't have to share!


(the "grey tooth" story is for another post...)

So apparently, I am an anorexic brunette giant who likes to trip out on shrooms while watching...Chuck? Interesting...

Week 8

Sorry Mom. No smile this week. The second I put the big, black, scary camera up to my face, she looks away from it or stares at it like she's being hypnotized. You can almost see her eyeballs turn into rotating peppermint candies. It's her po-po-po-poker face po-po-po-poker face. Maybe next week.

This little lady has discovered her voice. She's constantly cooing, gurgling, and happily growling. It's hilarious. She smiles, she wriggles, and she's starting to chunk up nicely. And her skin: like buttah. I'm definitely in baby heaven. Now if she could just sleep through the night, everything would be perfect. It's ok, though. She's such a fun baby and it's so fleeting, I'm just trying to soak up every little bit of it and trying to ignore how tired I am.

i'm so mad this one is blurry. grrr. but i thought it was cute anyway.

Miss Creepy McCreeperson

I am not awesome when it comes to many things but one thing I can definitely say I'm way above average in is my memory, especially my visual memory. If I see a face, I don't forget it. Out of a line up, I could point out the who shared the waiting room with me in my dentist office a month ago. I'm picturing them right now. They need their teeth worked on. I can picture the faces of just about every waiter and waitress I've had in the past couple of years. I'm just really, really good with faces. But please don't ask me to juggle or do trigonometry or hang out in an old folks homes or recite the declaration of Independence or weld anything. I'm really not good at welding.

If I meet someone for the second time but claim I've never seen them before or don't remember them, it's because I'm lying and it's probably because they were in attendance for one of my finer moments like that one time in college when I "sang" (yelled?) Olivia Newton John's part of Summer Lovin' in a thankfully poorly lit karaoke bar/dance club.

Recently, I was taking a walk around the neighborhood with the girls. Ruby was wailing because she had just shattered her glass jar she was using to torture, I mean, keep caterpillars in on someone's driveway, May was trying to run ahead of me and I was wearing Olive in the Baby Bjorn. I was walking as swiftly as I could to catch May without inflicting Shaken Baby Syndrome on Olive when this woman inside of a rumbling muscle car slowly drives along side of us. I catch May, and I'm dragging Ruby and I'm holding Olive's head straight and trying not to make it too obvious that I'm trying to peer inside of this car I've never seen. The window rolls down and it's this older lady who I've never seen before. I expect her to ask for directions but she leans over and yells out the window and is like "Oh my goodness, you have three now!" and I laugh nervously and say yes and yes it's a girl and sure we'll try again for a boy but we really wouldn't mind if our fourth was another girl, blahblahblah--the same conversation I have over and over and over, and then she starts busting out things like "What does your family out in California think of this?" and "How much longer does your husband have in his residency?", making it apparent that she indeed knows me. I squint into her car more intently, I don't know, looking for signs of plastic surgery, maybe I knew this person before they had their face morphed into something else perhaps? That's something else I'm really good at--knowing when someone has had something done or not. It's a skill I've acquired since Go has started his training. So if you have had surgery but really don't want anyone to know, sorry...I know your secret. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Mostly because I don't care if you've had something done or not so it's not even worth talking about with anyone else, really. Anyway, we chat some more, I'm perplexed and frankly, a little creeped out, we say our goodbyes and I watch her drive down the street a little ways and into what I assume to be her driveway. She lives in my neighborhood and apparently we've had conversations. I have no recollection of this. It gave me the willies.

Possible Update Status Lines for Facebook

Despite the harassing phone calls, wall posts, emails and blog comments I've received from concerned family members and friends regarding my recent joining of Facebook, I'm kind of digging the whole status update thing, though I hold myself back and limit myself to one status change per day. Some ideas that I have bypassed are:

"Annie Garlock Reynolds..."

-"doesn't know how to feel about the fact that her husband mistook her tricep muscle for " a really big lipoma" last night."

-"is wondering why men even have nipples."

-"is kind of getting the hang of the whole mother-of-three thing."

-"wishes that she could put Keifer Southerland in her pocket and have him jump out whenever she needed someone head-butted."

-"might have a girl-crush on Jennifer Aniston after seeing her interview on Jimmy Fallon the other night."

-"is eating the most delicious salad she made containing leafy greens, steak, oranges, cucumbers and blue cheese."

-"thinks her friend's Mexican Riveria cruise being rerouted to Canada is bogus-city."

-"is busting a sweet move to Deee-Lite's Groove is in the Heart."

-"just made a RAD cycle mix including Deee-Lite's Groove is in the Heart."

Well, It's About Freaking Time

I got my hair did.

I've Stepped Over

to the dark side. Otherwise known as Facebook. Pretty much just because there's an iPhone app for it, that's why.

Oh, and One More Thing

A Sampling From Olive's First Photobooth Session
(and yes, I am getting my hair done this week. thank you for your concern.)

Tid Bits

1. A win-win situation:

Do you think this onesie is as funny as I do?

Do you think this tutu is cute and have to have one?

These two things are my most recent buys. My old pal Beth made them. You can purchase them, along with a lot of other cool things, from her etsy shop. Her man recently got laid off, so they're paying the bills by selling her creations, which is pretty scary for their family of four. So if you're in need of a baby/child gift (or even if you're not), check out her shop--it's called "love, september." I'm pretty sure you'll find something you'll like and I'm pretty sure it would help their family out big time. Everybody wins.

2. A Pink Thumb:

It's around this time of year I start thinking "Maybe Pennsylvania ain't so bad." In my head, I have horrible grammar. I planted pink calla lilies like these in my yard yesterday, among a bunch of other plants, vegetables, and herbs. My stuff from last year has also sprung up; it makes me happy, so happy that I look at them and think "Me likes the spring, me does."

3. Happy 31st to my hunky monkey who has an obsession with his facial hair,
can bench twice his weight, studies every night while his girls crawl all over him
and dances like everyone is watching.

Go's birthday was Thursday. It was filled with Thai food, Patagonia garb, t-shirts, red licorice, black licorice, running shoe shopping, singing and homemade cards. It was fun.

Week 7

This was taken with my phone during a conversation between Olive and
I. She was like "Dude! Mom! You need a pedicure! Like, gag me!
Seriously!"