I didn’t collect many things as a kid. Sure, I had a basket of rocks in my closet, but that collection sat idle the majority of the time.
Enter the American Girl Dolls.
The stories were fun and the dolls adorable. I chose Kirsten as my favorite and began collecting all of her outfits and accessories. I would get an outfit or accessory for my birthday and another for Christmas every year. I loved the detail in each of the outfits and couldn’t wait for the day that I owned the entire set.
When I was in college and still getting an one outfit or accessory from Santa each year, I realized that I may never have everything. At that time I decided to stop collecting for a while and wait until I could spend a little more money to get some of the bigger things.
I was reminded of my precious doll while listening to This American Life at work and got on their website to see what I still needed to collect.
Sadly, they have stopped carrying a few of the accessories that were my favorite and I will never own them. I guess I will have to settle with what I can get my hands on now and just forget about the rest.
Is it strange that I STILL have a very strong urge to complete my collection? Please don’t tell me that I am too old for dolls.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Let's just make this memory week--shall we?
After my last two memory posts, I decided to just keep on going.
When I was younger, summer seemed to last for a really long time. (As opposed to now, when it flies by). I spent almost every day with my neighbors. There were twin girls who were two years older than me (and always hung out with me—even though I was younger and dorky) and their sister who was my sister’s age. It was a great arrangement.
We did lots of different things, roller skating in the driveway to Paula Abdul, dress ups, Barbies, and cards. At that time two game shows were fairly popular (at least popular with us): Shop ‘Til You Drop and Supermarket Sweep.
One lazy summer afternoon we decided to play Supermarket Sweep. We convinced the twin’s older brother to be the host and set out to get everything ready to go. Since we didn’t have an abundance of food items (and our mother’s would have killed us if we messed up their food storage), we adapted the game to what we could get our hands on. We had a “book” isle, a “Barbie” isle, a play “food” isle, a “game” isle and a “clothes” isle. This elaborate set took two days to finish. It required toting items from my house as well as organizing and categorizing everything. As we organized, we talked excitedly about new ideas and how much fun this was going to be.
We then had our “host” come up with questions that required us to retrieve certain items. Luckily each of our families owned a play mini-shopping cart that we wheeled around the isles (created on the back deck) in search of the correct item. We finally got everything ready.
And proceeded to play one round that lasted for about 30 minutes.
And then decided we were done—and began to put everything away.
I find it funny that the anticipation and planning of this particular activity was the best part of the whole thing. Barbies were the exact same way for me. I loved getting my “house” all ready and dividing up all of the clothes and shoes, but once that was done, I was ready to put the Barbies away.
Did you actually “play” Barbies, or anything else for that matter? And be honest—did you have a special Barbie voice?
When I was younger, summer seemed to last for a really long time. (As opposed to now, when it flies by). I spent almost every day with my neighbors. There were twin girls who were two years older than me (and always hung out with me—even though I was younger and dorky) and their sister who was my sister’s age. It was a great arrangement.
We did lots of different things, roller skating in the driveway to Paula Abdul, dress ups, Barbies, and cards. At that time two game shows were fairly popular (at least popular with us): Shop ‘Til You Drop and Supermarket Sweep.
One lazy summer afternoon we decided to play Supermarket Sweep. We convinced the twin’s older brother to be the host and set out to get everything ready to go. Since we didn’t have an abundance of food items (and our mother’s would have killed us if we messed up their food storage), we adapted the game to what we could get our hands on. We had a “book” isle, a “Barbie” isle, a play “food” isle, a “game” isle and a “clothes” isle. This elaborate set took two days to finish. It required toting items from my house as well as organizing and categorizing everything. As we organized, we talked excitedly about new ideas and how much fun this was going to be.
We then had our “host” come up with questions that required us to retrieve certain items. Luckily each of our families owned a play mini-shopping cart that we wheeled around the isles (created on the back deck) in search of the correct item. We finally got everything ready.
And proceeded to play one round that lasted for about 30 minutes.
And then decided we were done—and began to put everything away.
I find it funny that the anticipation and planning of this particular activity was the best part of the whole thing. Barbies were the exact same way for me. I loved getting my “house” all ready and dividing up all of the clothes and shoes, but once that was done, I was ready to put the Barbies away.
Did you actually “play” Barbies, or anything else for that matter? And be honest—did you have a special Barbie voice?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Rodeo!
A few weeks ago, we went to the local Rodeo. I love me some rodeo. Easton thought it was ok. He wasn't overly excited, but didn't scream either--so we take that as a victory.
He really liked the view from Grandpa's arms. Grandpa likes to think that he is the favorite, but Easton just knows that he has glasses to grab, a hat to chew on and a pen in his pocket. Three toys for the price of hanging out with the old guy.
He really liked the view from Grandpa's arms. Grandpa likes to think that he is the favorite, but Easton just knows that he has glasses to grab, a hat to chew on and a pen in his pocket. Three toys for the price of hanging out with the old guy.
I am an excellent fisherman
Before I even get started, I’m going to warn you that this story is embarrassing to me on so many different levels I should probably not retell it, but it is a story that begs to be told. You will find out more about me than you ever wanted to know (case in point: my feelings on going to the bathroom in the woods). Read on at your own risk.
In addition to Carrie being my friend, her family was friends with my family. During the summer months our families would camp together. These trips were always full of fun. S’mores, stories, hikes, mud, and of course, fishing.
On this particular trip Carrie and I were 10 years old. One morning we decided to go fishing in the creek about ½ mile away from camp. We gathered our fishing equipment and headed out. While we should have noticed that the creek was less than two feet deep and there were no fish in sight, we did not and continued to cast and reel, cast and reel, cast and reel.
Soon, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. I HATE to go to the bathroom in the woods. Mainly because it is messy and I always stress about peeing on my clothing, but this was quickly turning into an emergency so I had no choice. Next to me on the bank, was a clump of willows with a rock that seemed to be placed for just this purpose. I set my pole down, pulled down my pants and sat on the rock (yes, my bare, 10 year old bum was actually on the rock—this was the only way at the time that I knew I could definitely keep my pants dry). When I finished, I stood up to pull up my pants and ran into a “snag” of sorts.
I had sat on my own fish hook.
I’ll say that again, a fish hook was hooked in my bum. My bare bum.
(This is the point when those of you who actually know me are thinking, “Only KaLee, this could only happen to KaLee”).
So there I am, standing in the middle of a group of willows, unable to pull my pants up all of the
way, and unable to get the hook out, because I couldn’t see it. Mortified, I didn’t really know the next step to take, so I carefully pulled my pants up so that I was modest and called Carrie over. I explained the situation and after she stopped laughing, she decided that she would try to get the hook out. (Oh, what a brave friend she was!)
She was unsuccessful.
We then determined that this problem was going to require parental assistance so we headed back to camp the only way that seemed logical at the time. I walked in front and Carrie held the fishing pole and walked behind (why we didn’t think to break the line, I’ll never know). As we marched into camp, it quickly became obvious that no one was there and I became even more mortified (as if that was possible) at the thought of being stuck this way for any amount of time. Carried dropped me off in my parents’ trailer and then went searching.
This story does have a happy ending. My mom was not far from camp and successfully removed the hook.
And now, I always, ALWAYS know where the hook on the end of my fishing pole is. Lesson learned.
In addition to Carrie being my friend, her family was friends with my family. During the summer months our families would camp together. These trips were always full of fun. S’mores, stories, hikes, mud, and of course, fishing.
On this particular trip Carrie and I were 10 years old. One morning we decided to go fishing in the creek about ½ mile away from camp. We gathered our fishing equipment and headed out. While we should have noticed that the creek was less than two feet deep and there were no fish in sight, we did not and continued to cast and reel, cast and reel, cast and reel.
Soon, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. I HATE to go to the bathroom in the woods. Mainly because it is messy and I always stress about peeing on my clothing, but this was quickly turning into an emergency so I had no choice. Next to me on the bank, was a clump of willows with a rock that seemed to be placed for just this purpose. I set my pole down, pulled down my pants and sat on the rock (yes, my bare, 10 year old bum was actually on the rock—this was the only way at the time that I knew I could definitely keep my pants dry). When I finished, I stood up to pull up my pants and ran into a “snag” of sorts.
I had sat on my own fish hook.
I’ll say that again, a fish hook was hooked in my bum. My bare bum.
(This is the point when those of you who actually know me are thinking, “Only KaLee, this could only happen to KaLee”).
So there I am, standing in the middle of a group of willows, unable to pull my pants up all of the
way, and unable to get the hook out, because I couldn’t see it. Mortified, I didn’t really know the next step to take, so I carefully pulled my pants up so that I was modest and called Carrie over. I explained the situation and after she stopped laughing, she decided that she would try to get the hook out. (Oh, what a brave friend she was!)She was unsuccessful.
We then determined that this problem was going to require parental assistance so we headed back to camp the only way that seemed logical at the time. I walked in front and Carrie held the fishing pole and walked behind (why we didn’t think to break the line, I’ll never know). As we marched into camp, it quickly became obvious that no one was there and I became even more mortified (as if that was possible) at the thought of being stuck this way for any amount of time. Carried dropped me off in my parents’ trailer and then went searching.
This story does have a happy ending. My mom was not far from camp and successfully removed the hook.
And now, I always, ALWAYS know where the hook on the end of my fishing pole is. Lesson learned.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Let me introduce you to my old friend, Carrie
Not to be confused with my mom, Keri, or my sister-in-law, Kari.
Actually, her name wasn’t (and isn’t) Carrie at all, but she has to be called something on the blog and this is the best I can do.
So anyway. Carrie.
There are some people that come into your life that create memory after memory after memory, and others that you can remember being friends with but not much beyond that. Carrie falls into the former category.
She is fun-loving and constantly entertains herself in non-traditional ways. Let’s review a few experiences, shall we?
1. My mom gave Carrie and me a ride to school each morning during junior high. Carrie would wait on the corner for my mom to pull up. This corner also housed the street sign. One freezing, Wyoming winter day, Carrie decided to see if your tongue really does get stuck to a frozen pole. She quickly learned that yes, it does. Just then my mom pulled up to the corner and not wanting to look stupid she RIPPED her tongue off the pole and jumped in the car. It was then she realized that her tongue was bleeding (pretty badly). Her tongue was not the same for weeks.
2. Carrie and I decided to perform in our ward Christmas talent show. I can’t remember what we did (but as 15 year olds, I’m sure it was plenty embarrassing). She wore a red shirt and I wore a green shirt (we were oh, so clever). As she was getting ready at home, she decided that she wanted to add a Rudolph nose to the mix. Unfortunately, she did not own a clown nose, so she had to improvise. She found a red pompom (those crafty ones) and decided to hot glue it to her nose. The pompom didn’t last long, but her nose was red nonetheless.
3. I’m sure you all remember junior high. Oh, the chapstick you used. I think my greatest joy was finding my favorite flavor and every trip to the store buying a new kind to try. (I wouldn’t want to be unfair and declare a favorite without trying every single one available). During lunch, Carried leaned over and offered me her new chapstick. It was vanilla flavored—delicious. I applied liberally and continued chatting with the table, until I noticed that they were all trying not to look at me, and snickering. That seemingly harmless white colored chapstick was a joke stick and had turned my lips shockingly bright neon pink. I spent forever in the bathroom trying to scrub it off (Have you ever scrubbed your lips with soap? Not pleasant). A few days later, I was back to normal.
4. In 7th grade, it was all the rage to call people on the phone and ask them to go out with you. What did this mean, you ask? It meant that you would look away from them in the hall, would blush if they said hi, and that the rumors circulated that you were together. That is all. One night the phone rang and I answered. A slightly deep, slightly high pitched voice asked for KaLee. The teenage-boy voice continued, introducing himself as Brian (who went to the prep school in town—hence why I didn’t know who he was) and proceeded to “ask me out” on behalf of James (we’ll call him James). I was confused, but answered yes. The next day—as I am describing this bizarre experience to a friend, she calls James over and asks about it. He denies that he even knows a Brian, and I am left feeling stupid. It was FOUR years later that I learned the “Brian” was actually Carrie—being her usually, crazy self.
You may now be at the point where you are wondering why I am sharing this collection of memories with you. The answer? I remembered the Rudolph nose story randomly the other day and suddenly I was flooded with memories of Carrie. She’s spunky, and funny, and a riot, and I’m not in contact with her anymore. {must remember to locate her}
Please tell me that you have had a Carrie in your life, because you really, really need one.
Actually, her name wasn’t (and isn’t) Carrie at all, but she has to be called something on the blog and this is the best I can do.
So anyway. Carrie.
There are some people that come into your life that create memory after memory after memory, and others that you can remember being friends with but not much beyond that. Carrie falls into the former category.
She is fun-loving and constantly entertains herself in non-traditional ways. Let’s review a few experiences, shall we?
1. My mom gave Carrie and me a ride to school each morning during junior high. Carrie would wait on the corner for my mom to pull up. This corner also housed the street sign. One freezing, Wyoming winter day, Carrie decided to see if your tongue really does get stuck to a frozen pole. She quickly learned that yes, it does. Just then my mom pulled up to the corner and not wanting to look stupid she RIPPED her tongue off the pole and jumped in the car. It was then she realized that her tongue was bleeding (pretty badly). Her tongue was not the same for weeks.
2. Carrie and I decided to perform in our ward Christmas talent show. I can’t remember what we did (but as 15 year olds, I’m sure it was plenty embarrassing). She wore a red shirt and I wore a green shirt (we were oh, so clever). As she was getting ready at home, she decided that she wanted to add a Rudolph nose to the mix. Unfortunately, she did not own a clown nose, so she had to improvise. She found a red pompom (those crafty ones) and decided to hot glue it to her nose. The pompom didn’t last long, but her nose was red nonetheless.
3. I’m sure you all remember junior high. Oh, the chapstick you used. I think my greatest joy was finding my favorite flavor and every trip to the store buying a new kind to try. (I wouldn’t want to be unfair and declare a favorite without trying every single one available). During lunch, Carried leaned over and offered me her new chapstick. It was vanilla flavored—delicious. I applied liberally and continued chatting with the table, until I noticed that they were all trying not to look at me, and snickering. That seemingly harmless white colored chapstick was a joke stick and had turned my lips shockingly bright neon pink. I spent forever in the bathroom trying to scrub it off (Have you ever scrubbed your lips with soap? Not pleasant). A few days later, I was back to normal.
4. In 7th grade, it was all the rage to call people on the phone and ask them to go out with you. What did this mean, you ask? It meant that you would look away from them in the hall, would blush if they said hi, and that the rumors circulated that you were together. That is all. One night the phone rang and I answered. A slightly deep, slightly high pitched voice asked for KaLee. The teenage-boy voice continued, introducing himself as Brian (who went to the prep school in town—hence why I didn’t know who he was) and proceeded to “ask me out” on behalf of James (we’ll call him James). I was confused, but answered yes. The next day—as I am describing this bizarre experience to a friend, she calls James over and asks about it. He denies that he even knows a Brian, and I am left feeling stupid. It was FOUR years later that I learned the “Brian” was actually Carrie—being her usually, crazy self.
You may now be at the point where you are wondering why I am sharing this collection of memories with you. The answer? I remembered the Rudolph nose story randomly the other day and suddenly I was flooded with memories of Carrie. She’s spunky, and funny, and a riot, and I’m not in contact with her anymore. {must remember to locate her}
Please tell me that you have had a Carrie in your life, because you really, really need one.
Selfishness or How My Husband Knows Me a Little Too Well
Back story: It was finally time for Ronnie and me to get new cell phones. As fate would have it, we liked the same phone. This particular phone was available in only black and purple and since I’m not so much a purple fan (I like the color, just not enough to dedicate my phone to it for the next two years), we took a chance and ordered the exact. same. phone. The phones arrived this week and the following is the Google Talk (love it) conversation that ensued. [we do not believe in capitalization or punctuation when using Google Talk]
KaLee: did the phones get here?
Ronnie: yeah, which one do you want?
KaLee: the better one
Ronnie: i figured
Post Script: Sadly, Ronnie's phone actually does have a weird echo thing--mine is working just fine.
KaLee: did the phones get here?
Ronnie: yeah, which one do you want?
KaLee: the better one
Ronnie: i figured
Post Script: Sadly, Ronnie's phone actually does have a weird echo thing--mine is working just fine.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
It's great to have talented friends
My uber-talented friend Bethany took our pictures while we were passing through Denver earlier this month. I just love it when my friends are the BEST at what they do! You can view a few more pics on her photography blog, then go check out her website as well!
Easton, me and Bethany
Easton, me and Bethany
We also learned that Easton hates the grass.
Really, REALLY hates the grass.
Thanks Bethany! We loved seeing you and getting a few pics in the process.
[scroll down for the tag blanket winner!]
Tag Blanket Winner
We have a winner folks! Random.org generated the number 5, which means that the winner is Lindsay who said, "That's awesome! Garrett went through the button/tag fascination phase a little while back (and, let's be honest, still hasn't completely crawled out...especially where zippers are concerned. He loves him some zippers). As I'd watch him reach for any button, zipper, or string attached to my clothing, I swore up and down that I'd sew something like this in time for the next child. Here's hoping, though, that I can just win one of yours instead (so much easier!). Count me in!"
Congrats Lindsay! Email me at justkalee (at) gmail (dot) com with your address and your prefered color scheme (boy, girl or neutral).
Congrats Lindsay! Email me at justkalee (at) gmail (dot) com with your address and your prefered color scheme (boy, girl or neutral).
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The way he moves
I thought I better document Easton's preferred way of getting himself across the room before he goes and learns something a little more dignified. {apologies for the blurriness of the photos--he is pretty fast!}
He begins by locking onto something he wants. (backwards, of course)
Then he pushes off with his legs and does a body twist--like this.
And then he gets distracted by the flash and stops to take a look at his mama.
Just a few minutes later he wanted to show you his new skill.
And this is his new skill with a smile on his face. Lucky for me, he hasn't figured out how to actually move in this position, but it's coming.
And here is one that has nothing to do with moving (unless you count me carrying him as moving), but is cute--so it has to go on the blog.
He begins by locking onto something he wants. (backwards, of course)
Then he pushes off with his legs and does a body twist--like this.
And then he gets distracted by the flash and stops to take a look at his mama.
Just a few minutes later he wanted to show you his new skill.
And this is his new skill with a smile on his face. Lucky for me, he hasn't figured out how to actually move in this position, but it's coming.
And here is one that has nothing to do with moving (unless you count me carrying him as moving), but is cute--so it has to go on the blog.
Monday, July 21, 2008
I'm a good mom
at least that is what I chant to myself when I am having a bit of a hard day.
Yesterday I tried to make that chant a little more true.
Easton loves two things above all others:
Buttons
and Tags
So, to fulfill all of his wildest dreams, I created this:
Yesterday I tried to make that chant a little more true.
Easton loves two things above all others:
Buttons
and Tags
So, to fulfill all of his wildest dreams, I created this:
A tag blanket with buttons sewn on. Buttons that he can chew and grab all he wants to (the best kind in Easton's opinion). I followed this tutorial and just made a few tweaks (the adding of the buttons and one side being cotton fabric).
And because I love all of you--it's time for a giveaway! I'll make you a tag blanket with buttons. One side minky and the other a suitable cotton fabric (in either a girly or boyish design--your choice). Perfect for your little one, or your next shower gift.
What do you have to do to win? Just leave a comment (any comment) before Wednesday, July 23rd at 11:59pm and I'll draw a winner via random.org.
Good luck!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Because I can't stop laughing
I normally post these things on Easton's blog (and actually did yesterday), but I can't stop laughing at this video--so I thought I would share it with everyone.
[Please excuse my shaky camera skills and annoying laugh]
I'm having a bit of trouble embedding the video. You can also go here to view it.
[Please excuse my shaky camera skills and annoying laugh]
I'm having a bit of trouble embedding the video. You can also go here to view it.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Easton's New Trick
Grandma recently got the old high chair out for Easton to use. The first time we put him in it he started doing a little trick. You will have to excuse my shaking camera skills and laughing--but I can't help myself. Even today (as I watched the video three times, I laughed out loud every time).
He does this same thing when we practicing sitting on the floor. He gets tired of the position and throws himself backwards. I believe the video depicts his attempts to do the same thing--that darn high chair is just in the way.
He does this same thing when we practicing sitting on the floor. He gets tired of the position and throws himself backwards. I believe the video depicts his attempts to do the same thing--that darn high chair is just in the way.
When you need your mom's freezer
Last night I got a little becky-homecky and made some freezer jam. Raspberry for me, strawberry for Ronnie. (Yes, I realize the amount of sugar I will consume may completely negate that exercising I am trying to do--it's a sacrifice I am willing to make). I would give you the recipe, but it is a family secret. Lucky for you, we keep that secret recipe inside the box of Sure-Jell Pectin.
I don't think I can describe how much I love homemade jam. Every time I make it, I am reminded how easy it truly is. So here's the challenge. Get some fruit on sale and make a batch (honestly, only a 30 minute process). Your family will thank you for the next year.
Plus you can totally say "I made that" when you have people over to your house--how cool will that be?
I don't think I can describe how much I love homemade jam. Every time I make it, I am reminded how easy it truly is. So here's the challenge. Get some fruit on sale and make a batch (honestly, only a 30 minute process). Your family will thank you for the next year.Plus you can totally say "I made that" when you have people over to your house--how cool will that be?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Running
I’m not so much a runner. In fact, I think it is safe to say that I hate running.
[so tell me why, deep down, do I want to run a marathon someday?]
This summer I’ve been trying to get my butt back into shape. Some weight loss would be a nice perk—but I really just want to feel good. Okay, and fit into some old clothes.
I’m starting slow. On my parents elliptical machine and stationary bike (until I can locate a bike trailer for Easton). I strap on my ipod and away I go.
I have one problem though. My music choices are lacking. My ipod library looks something like this.
Pop stars from my high school days? Check.
Alternative music from college? Check.
Enrique? Double Check. I LOVE me some Enrique.
So much country you may start to call me a hick? Check.
Music great to run to? Not so much.
Back in the day, I had a few mixed rap/hip hop CDs that were my staple at the gym. Now, I would prefer something I little less rap-ish and a little cleaner, but I really, REALLY need a good beat to keep me going.
Please help. What music gets you moving?
[so tell me why, deep down, do I want to run a marathon someday?]
This summer I’ve been trying to get my butt back into shape. Some weight loss would be a nice perk—but I really just want to feel good. Okay, and fit into some old clothes.
I’m starting slow. On my parents elliptical machine and stationary bike (until I can locate a bike trailer for Easton). I strap on my ipod and away I go.
I have one problem though. My music choices are lacking. My ipod library looks something like this.
Pop stars from my high school days? Check.
Alternative music from college? Check.
Enrique? Double Check. I LOVE me some Enrique.
So much country you may start to call me a hick? Check.
Music great to run to? Not so much.
Back in the day, I had a few mixed rap/hip hop CDs that were my staple at the gym. Now, I would prefer something I little less rap-ish and a little cleaner, but I really, REALLY need a good beat to keep me going.
Please help. What music gets you moving?
Monday, July 14, 2008
To make you feel like you were at the pool
We were able to introduce Easton to the great, big, world of swimming while we were in Cali. Here is a photo documentation of how it went. {warning: this post is long} Captions will be above the picture I am describing.
Easton was unsure what he thought at first and clung pretty tightly to Daddy.
Then he gave us a glare that said "what the heck are you doing to me?"
After chewing on familiar rings he started to warm up to the idea.
And was even ok to be away from Daddy's body.
Then he started genuinely enjoy himself.
See? So cute!
We even got a little smirk--gotta love that.
Then, he suddenly noticed the water around him.
And got even closer for a better look.
Finally, the "I want that" lips came out.
We were able to distract him from eating the water with a little trick that brought this look to his face.
Daddy blowing bubbles under the water!
That made him VERY happy!
But not when they got in his face.
He couldn't resist any longer and needed to find out what this water was all about.
(After that encounter, he sneezed, looked around and was back to his happy self)
Easton was unsure what he thought at first and clung pretty tightly to Daddy.
Then he gave us a glare that said "what the heck are you doing to me?"
After chewing on familiar rings he started to warm up to the idea.
And was even ok to be away from Daddy's body.
Then he started genuinely enjoy himself.
See? So cute!
We even got a little smirk--gotta love that.
Then, he suddenly noticed the water around him.
And got even closer for a better look.
Finally, the "I want that" lips came out.
We were able to distract him from eating the water with a little trick that brought this look to his face.
Daddy blowing bubbles under the water!
That made him VERY happy!
But not when they got in his face.
He couldn't resist any longer and needed to find out what this water was all about.
(After that encounter, he sneezed, looked around and was back to his happy self)Just a few minutes later, Daddy was distracted and talking to someone, so he went in for the kill again.
Closer, closer.
Got it!
Finally we finished up with some family pictures.
Easton got distracted.
And decided to eat Daddy's face instead.
We can't wait to take him again!
Closer, closer.
Got it!
Finally we finished up with some family pictures.
Easton got distracted.
And decided to eat Daddy's face instead.
We can't wait to take him again!Friday, July 11, 2008
Because you love to look at us
We had a wonderful vacation in California. I did not love the humidity {which by the way made my hair FREAK out--previously I thought my hair was stick straight}. I did love seeing family and friends.
Because we have a photographer-grandpa we took some studio portraits. In the front room. On our own time schedule. You gotta love that. Here are a few of my favorites.
Ronnie and I were also able to go to an Angels game (they lost). Thanks to this picture, I have now realized that in no way is a jersey a flattering look.
We were also able to see my roommate Cheryl and her family--definitely fun! I just love that I can visit her in SoCal now!
Of course we didn't think about pictures until the end of the night, when the babies had had ENOUGH! (Cheryl, Allie, Scott, Me, Easton, Ronnie)
Me, Easton, Cheryl and Allie.We were also able to stop and see my other awesome roommate Bethany in Denver and got a few MORE family photos (you can never get enough of those--right?) Look for those soon--right Bethany?
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