Annie cannot go out of the house without spotting a Beaver logo here and there after she was bitten by the football bug a few weeks ago. Nathalie is quick to point out the Duck fans, always wondering what THEY could be doing in OUR town. Ducks? YUCK! Way to go Grandpa Steve, thoroughly indoctrinated. What can I say? GO BEAVS!
The Pumpkin patch, as always, was a lot of fun this year, but my camera pooped out so I had to get a couple pictures on my camera phone. They're not the best, but you can see they're having a blast!
So, my big bro likes this show called Firefly. He commissioned me to knit him the Jayne hat, an infamous piece of attire well known by devoted fans. Doesn't he look smashing in it? (Oh, by the way, he told me not to post this picture so please don't tell him I did, OK?)
"A man walks down the street in that hat, people know he's not afraid of anything."
"I think it's the sweetest hat ever."
So...here's to your cunning little hat Matt, and happy birthday too. I love you!
Since I am, it seems, out of my mind and can't seem to get it all together, many of you who are out of my immediate sight may feel forgotten or neglected. I assure you, that is not the case. I am just HORRIBLE about staying in touch. It seems that every day I think about several of you, lifting you up in prayer, thanking God that you love me even though I am seemingly so inconsistent.
Although I am lacking some important neural function that allows me to communicate with others who are not directly in front of me, I am determined to keep trying, so please, have patience.
I am posting some pics of the little ones as a peace offering. May they smooth any ruffled feathers.
I wanted to get this down before I forgot, one of those funny moments...rarely in the mundane things of life like mowing the lawn, doing the laundry, dishes, cleaning toilets, etc. have I heard voices from beyond. Today, while gathering up the trash bag, I did. I opened the cupboard, reached for the ties to cinch the bag, and then, I heard it. A faint voice calling to me, at first, indistinguishable. I perked up my ears and listened harder. Was it coming from next to me? Above me? Was the Lord speaking to me? Not that he couldn't, but hardly here I realized. What was it saying? "Call me"? OK, now I was at a loss. Not only was I hearing things, but this disembodied voice was asking me out. Proof positive that SOMETHING was not right. I leaned toward the trash bag and the pleading grew louder. "Call me, Call me, Call me".
Alas, it truly was a voice from beyond the grave. Poor Burger King toy Barney was being eighty sixed with today's trash. His last plea before he succumbed to dismal burial in the local landfill... "call me". Bummer he could never come up with a better line. A faint wash of guilt momentarily threatened as I had visions of Toy Story dancing in my head. Then, I threw the bag away. Bye bye Barney. Say hi to Woody in that toy store in the sky.
