Could It Be?

While waiting at my local gas-station Subway for lunch, I noticed a man in front of me in line. He looked exactly like Anthony Bourdain--and I mean exactly. He was with two blonde women, and they were all ordering sandwiches. When he paid, he sounded exactly like Anthony Bourdain. I thought, hmmm, I wonder if that guy knows how much he resembles Anthony Bourdain? Then one of the women called him "Tony." Could it be? Anthony Bourdain at a Subway--ordering a BLT!?

I must admit that this part of Morgantown (just off the freeway) only has fast-food chains like Long John Silvers and Burger King, so if Tony Bourdain was going to have a quick lunch, Subway would probably be his best option. Also, when I went to my car, I took a look at the cars in the lot, and sure enough, there was a big, black Escalade with New York plates. That said, we see lots of New York plates around here, and lots of New Yorkers seem to be Italians with names like Tony.

But really, could it be? Anthony Bourdain at a Subway? I should have taken pictures to sell to the National Enquirer. They wouldn't care if it was Bourdain or not.

Cousins

We live only 2 hours away from Caleb's sister and her husband who have 2 children around Reed's age, so he gets to see them often. He especially loves Carrick who is only a few months older. Reed says that Carrick is "the best friend of Reed." He says everything that way. For example, I'm the "mommy of Reed." That gives me some interesting things to think about concerning grammar and linguistics, and how in America, we all think that our Subject+Verb+Object sentence structure is just the way it should be, but that's not even how we necessarily learn to construct language in the beginning.


But I digress.

So anyway, Reed gets to see his cousins all of the time, and this is great, because he will likely be an only child, and I want him to know how to share and have all of those great qualities that come with having siblings. This is not to say that "only" children don't turn out great, because I have some wonderful friends who are only children, but I don't want him to grow up feeling lonely or as though he's missed something.

I was lucky to have a great older brother who let me bully him into playing with me, but I rarely saw my own cousins. We lived in Idaho, and my cousins lived in Texas and Arizona. Every summer, for a while during my youth, my cousins from Arizona would come to visit, and I just remember those times as being crazy fun--even though now, as an adult, I can imagine that having 6 kids and 4 adults was pretty stressful for my parents considering that we lived in a 3 bedroom ranch house. But for me, those are some of my favorite memories, and I'm glad that I can provide similar memories for Reed.

Here Reed is with Carrick. See how his face just glows.

In this picture, Carrick, Reed, and Alivia were playing under our dining room table (which is unusually high). Reed was yelling at his train set "Go Thomas, Go Thomas, Go," and everytime that Thomas would go over the bridge, they would all cheer. Even little Livie cheered, although it was obvious that she was just cheering for cheerings sake.

And here is Reed bonding with his other friends: George the Monkey (as he says it) and Pig.

Kids are really fun. I highly recommend them.

Birthday's over.

Reed turned 3 on Friday, November 14. Caleb and I took cupcakes to his preschool on Friday. The kids were really cute.

Then on Saturday, we had a party with family. I made a this lovely Thomas the Train cake. Maybe I actually have a domestic side.

Reed only liked the frosting.

His grandpa and grammie Winters gave him a Home Depot Employee outfit. It's pretty funny, but we were all bummed they couldn't find a Lowes outfit. Caleb's Dad is a union organizer, so we care about stuff like supporting businesses that use union employees. This is, in no way an advertisement for Home Depot. However, the outfit is really cute, and I spend lots of time at the hardware store trying to keep Reed from playing with the display model glass doors while the employees look on in horror, so he's familiar with the uniform.

He'ss now old enough to understand what "birthday" means, and all week, he kept shouting "birthday coming up!" Of course, on Sunday, I had to explain to him that his birthday was over. On Monday, he looked at me sadly and said "birthday's over."

Caleb Breaks Family Record!

Yesterday, Caleb, Reed, and I made our monthly pilgrimage to Pittsburgh to go to Costco; not too exciting I know--I would rather be going to the Andy Warhol museum, but duty and Cabot Vermont white cheddar dictate that we must go to Costco. The roads were really bad with a combination of a snow storm and about 40,000 college students headed home to New York and New Jersey, so we were stuck in traffic for 3.5 hours. To put this into perspective, the drive to Pittsburgh is usually an hour. In order to alleviate our boredom, we started playing 20 questions.

This is where the record breaking comes in; Caleb guessed the answer with 0 questions! It's a miracle. 0 questions. It's like we're psychically linked.

Or maybe I'm just really transparent. I was hemming and hawing over what to pick, when all of a sudden, I said "Okay, I'm ready." Caleb immediately said "Is it milk?" I guess picking milk may have been an obvious choice when we were stopped in traffic next to a milk truck.

I did beat him with Princess Diana though, and he beat me with Werner Herzog, so maybe we're not psychically linked after all.

A Halloween Retrospective

I know I'm a little late posting on Halloween, but I still wanted to post some pictures of Reed in his costume. Then, when I was looking at pictures, I found these old pictures, so I thought I would do a little Halloween Retrospective. Reed was a dog this year. This was probably the last time he would let me dress him up in any kind of stuffed animal garb. Next year, I'm sure he'll want to be a punk rocker or something.23 month old pumpkin--Yes, I like the cuddly costumes. I'm sure he'll hate me for it someday.

This is an 11 month old Tigger.

And finally, a 3 week old pumpkin. This picture wasn't taken on Halloween. He wasn't born yet on Halloween, but Jenny gave him this cute costume with the hope that he would come early, so we dressed him up in November.

I know I'm biased, but I think he's pretty adorable.

More pictures of Mo'town.

I have to confess that we're pretty lax about downloading photos from the camera to the computer, which is why I'm posting multiple blogs in one day, and then I probably won't post again for weeks.

Caleb has his own office at WVU with his name on the door. This is a huge improvement over the cubicle in a hallway that he shared with two other people at BSU.

This is a picture of our street. We live in one of those real neighborhoods where people walk their dogs and say hello and all of that. Our neighbors in Boise were mean to us. They were DINKS (Double Income No Kids), and I think they thought we were trashy because we had a child and dog. When we would drive by their house, they would look at us with disgust. One time, the husband left an "anonymous" note on our door because Hank had barked at him on Sunday morning while he was trying to sit in his hot tub. We were gone for less than an hour, so I didn't feel too bad for him, as it was 11am or something like that. His note, among other things, said "please leave and return our neighborhood to the peaceful place it used to be." We were so quiet. We were great neighbors. I can't help it that the last person who lived there was a serious cat lady. Also, when I went to the door with his "anonymous" note and graciously apologized, he got embarrassed and tried to blame it on his wife who wasn't even there at the time. Our neighbors here love both Reed AND Hank. When Hank barks at walkers through the fence, they stop and pet him and say stuff like "Oh what a nice dog!"

We have to climb lots and lots of stair at campus. That's the problem with a campus built on "mountains."

So that's the crash course on Morgantown. All of that said, we both really miss the West and would love to move back someday.

Getting to know Morgantown Cont....

Here are some pictures of campus.

This is Colson Hall where all of the magic happens. This is the English Department building; it's beautiful with a marble staircase and fancy bathrooms--very different from the shabby Liberal Arts building at BSU. I'm totally tooting my own horn here, but I was recently named the number one Creative Writing student at WVU, so I really like the English Department here, and they like me too.

This is Eisland Hall where all of the fancy faculty have their offices. By the way, Caleb's office is not in Eisland Hall.

Umm, I don't even remember what this building is called, but you can see Caleb and Reed are in the picture.

Woodburn Hall is the first building built at WVU. We missed watching Bill Clinton speak here last semester, because we were having our house appraised. That was a bummer, but we do have a great house now thanks to my wonderful in-laws, so that's not a bummer.

This is the legendary Personal Rapid Transit system. I don't even know how to explain it except to say that it connects the two different campuses at WVU, which are located across town from each other. It's robotic or something, and you might find a PRT in England, but probably nowhere else.

Getting to Know Morgantown

Having most of our family and friends scattered across the country has made Caleb and I eager to share some pictures of our new home. We're always bugging people to visit us, and we wanted to give people an idea of where we live.

This is a picture of Morgantown taken from a road just below our house. Morgantown is a very hilly city with lots of trees. People here call the hills "mountains," but of course, I know better.

This is our favorite bakery in town. They make really good bread, and they also make brick-oven fired pizza. It's pretty much the best pizza I've ever had. I like "Sonoma" that has sun-dried tomato pesto, carmelized onions, goat cheese, and fresh basil--and the prices are really good. Still, we had to stop getting pizza every week when we realized we were eating ourselves into the poor house.

The "Cow House" is one of the 7 wonders of Morgantown. No one knows what the other 6 wonders are.

When we make our millions, we're going to buy this house.

Mario's Fish Bowl is the local watering hole just down the street from our house. They have good cheeseburgers and wings. And "fish bowls" of beer. Perhaps that's obvious from the sign.

Love is a Battlefield.

So now, the Obama/Biden signs have all been taken down, and there is one scraggly McCain/Palin sign hanging back on the fence.

After much thought about what could be going on in the heads of our neighbors, Caleb and I have decided that they are fighting about who to vote for, and either the wife or husband got mad and tore down the other person's signs. Then, the other retaliated by tearing the new signs down.

We'll see how long this battle lasts. This election might just end in divorce.

Of course, this is all speculation.

Neighbor Update

Last night, I noticed the neighbors across the street had taken down their four McCain/Palin yard signs. Today, we drove by and saw they had replaced the signs with Obama/Biden signs. The family had even stuck an Obama/Biden sticker over the McCain/Palin sticker on their mini-van. I was really shocked to see such a change, and then, I felt really moved. I'm sad to see what's happening with the economy, but it's great to see people reconsidering their choices.

Saved

Caleb's buddy from college, John, is a police officer here in Morgantown. We enjoy visiting with him, because we get all the dirt on the local crime scene. Also, it's kind of fun hanging out with a cop when most of our friends are artistic types--you know writers who drink red wine and read The New Yorker and such--but John's a Budweiser and Playboy type of guy.

The other night, he was at our house in his police uniform and he looked down at his pants. "Oh man," he said, "I've got blood on my pants." I just sat there with my mouth hanging open , when he said "I had to kill a deer on the road, but we have to document it every time we use our gun, so I just...." then he made the motion of slitting a throat with his hand. I was sort of shocked, but also relieved that it wasn't a the blood of a person, which was my first thought.

But I digress. So anyway, John comes and visits us sometimes on slow nights when he's bored. It turns out that the life of a police officer in Morgantown is far more boring than exciting (not like in Boise when the cops are too busy shooting people to be bored). We're always glad to have a visitor, but I sometimes worry about what the neighbors will think. Our neighbors are mostly elderly, and they are very nosy. There is a young family across the street, but they have FOUR McCain/Palin yard signs in their lawn, so they're pretty conservative.

When John comes to visit, he drives up in his cop car, which he parks outside, and then comes in the house in his full uniform with his gun and everything. He showed up Monday evening and hung out for a half an hour, told us about his new girlfriend who works at Victoria's Secret, nothing scandalous or anything, but on Tuesday, we received a strange phone call.

The minister of some church was calling because he wanted to talk to us about being saved. I'm pretty sure that one of the neighbors referred him to us, and I suspect they think we're criminals because the cops come by regularly. I mean, we hardly seem criminal or anything, but I'll admit the visits from the "cop" might look bad. Next time, I guess I'll just make a big show of waving when he leaves yelling "Bye John. Come again FRIEND!"

In Memory Of....

Heirloom tomatoes. We're enjoying the last of our heirloom tomatoes this week, which is so sad. The great thing about West Virginia is that it takes little to no skill to grow tomatoes here. We're terrible garderners. We do everything wrong--plant our rows too close together, let weeds grow in between them, forget to water--and still, our tomatoes turn out big and beautiful. Our favorites this year were a Mr. Stripey varietal. They were yellow with red stripes running through them. The rest of our garden didn't fare so well, but I don't think that's due to our gardening ability. We had a really wet summer, and all of the gardens in the neighborhood were attacked by some kind of fungus. Our zucchini squash and eggplant didn't survive, although we do have scallions and rhubarb growing. Next year, I think we'll rig up a system for catching rainwater. I know I complain a lot about the rain, but at least we never have to water our yard. have a lot of weeding to do, and Caleb will need to till over what's left of the garden. I would also like to plant some tulip bulbs for the spring. Unfortunately, Caleb is to yardwork as I am to diet, meaning he does it begrudgingly and only after he's been shamed. I can't point fingers though, since I don't like yardwork either. I just like the look of a nice yard.

Here is a picture of some of our tomatoes. We froze lots of Marinara and canned salsa. We also had a bunch of jalapenos, which Caleb turned into Louisiana-style hot sauce, and it is yummy!


We were able to eat lots of fresh salsa this summer.

I also made a pie with the Huckleberries we picked in the Dolly Sods. Caleb thinks this picture looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.

The Fall colors are starting to settle in, which is nice. Fall is beautiful here, but I approach it with trepidation, because it signals the advent of the long and dreary winter. Winters here are atrocious. Pretty much everyone who lives here agrees on this. The leaves fall, and the trees are all left bare, while the sky is constantly grey, and the roads are muddy. When the directors of the movie version of Cormac McCarthy's book The Road looked for a place that seemed post-apocalyptical, they chose a stretch of highway in Pennsylvania located about a half an hour from here, so that speaks volumes about the landscape here in winter. And when it snows, the roads get slick and dangerous in a way that Idaho roads rarely do. Caleb drives to a Penn State campus three times a week to teach a composition class, and I'm already worrying about him on those roads. I also really wish we could go to Idaho over Christmas break. I miss my family and the snow, but we're planning a trip for the summer instead. Hopefully, next year, we can make it back to my home for Christmas.

Caleb and Reed are both doing great. Caleb's working hard and getting lots of recognition for his great work from his boss, who I think is only second to me as his biggest fan. Reed has started a fancy new preschool where he learns Spanish and Sign Language and all of those things they didn't teach when I was in school. Caleb takes Reed to school in the mornings while I do my homework, and when Reed sees the school, he claps his hands and yells "Yay School! Thank you Daddy!" Reed is such a happy kid.

Well, I'll finish up with a picture of Reed looking adorable.

Bombs and Berries

Last week, in a last ditch effort to save summer, we went to the Purple Fiddle in Thomas, West Virginia. The Purple Fiddle is a "family friendly" bluegrass joint that also serves espresso and microbrewed beer. They get bluegrass music every night during the summer and advertise heavily that kids are welcome. We stayed next door at the Fiddler's Roost, which is their Guest House. It's cute and convenient, but without very many amenities. We took Reed to see two different bands, and he really enjoyed it, but since the bands started at 8:30pm, and that is exactly Reed's bedtime, we were only able to enjoy the music for about a half an hour each night.

Then we went back to our room and watched the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on an old VHS machine. Reed had his own little twin bed, and he loved being in the room with us. He would frequently sit up and wave at us while yelling "Hi Mommy! Hi Daddy!" despite the fact that we were in a bed located approximately one foot from his. Then he would grin ear to ear, stick his thumb in his mouth and lay back down. I decided to let him stay up late since we were on vacation, and we were all up until about 11:00pm the first night.

This was a big mistake, because as it turned out, the band was staying at the Fiddler's Roost also, and they came back at about 2:00am. They then proceeded to sit out on the porch, drink beer, and have a philosophical discussion, which I could hear every word of as the porch was located just underneath our open window. Reed, however, slept through the whole thing and woke up chipper at 6:00am.

I guess we got pay back on the band, because the bathroom was communal, and Reed ran down the hall with his little foot stool that we had brought along shouting. I HAVE TO GO PEE PEE! Then, after Caleb used the rest room, Reed clapped his hands together and cheered "Yay, Daddy went pee pee!" We worked as fast as we could to get him out of there and get breakfast, only to discover that the only place in town didn't open until eight am. So we strolled around town, and this is what we found.

The Cheat River flows right below Thomas. I thought this view of it looked very southern.

Although Thomas has a small, but thriving arts community, there are parts of it that look like a ghost town. It is an abandoned coal mining town. There are cute old buildings like this just waiting to be revitalized. Caleb and I fantasize about turning one of those buildings into a printing press. I guess that will have to wait until we make our millions.

Apparently, Thomas has some conflict between the hippies and the rednecks. They also have some literacy issues. I found this carving on an abandoned door.

It reads: "Thomas WV: World Center for Militant Apathy." Then below that, someone else carved: "This Hear Town Don't Kare and Nobody Can Make Us To!"

The Purple Fiddle is full of hippies in the truest sense. I don't see real hippies around much anymore. Caleb and I have speculated that maybe being a hippie has gone out of style We both get a little nostalgic, Caleb, for the old hippie days of Morgantown, and I, for the hippie days of Missoula. When we got back to Morgantown, my money smelled like Patchouli, and I was immediately transported back to Butterfly Herbs in Missoula when I was 18 and drinking coffee all day with Cassie. Of course, we made fun of the hippies back then, but now I kind of miss them. Also, hippies love kids, which I like.

We also went to the Dolly Sods Wilderness area for a picnic and little hike. It is 4,000 ft high, which is really high for around here, and the country is absolutely stunning. It looks like this:

One our hike, we found a bog absolutely full of huckleberries and wild blueberries. We picked as many as we could without straying off the trail. It's dangerous to stray off the trail in the Dolly Sods because of the live bombs. Yes, that's right. Live bombs. The Dolly Sods used to be a live training area during World War 2, and they warn that there is still the potential for live bombs in the area. Caleb thinks that is a metaphor for West Virginia. It's wild and wonderful, but there are live bombs around, so you can't enjoy it too much. As I'm sure everyone knows, West Virginia has a history of terrible exploitation of the natural resources. I could go on about that forever, but I won't. Instead, I will post this picture that illustrates my point:

But Reed had a great time. He loved being out and picking berries. Then he figured out that he could eat them, and he ate more than he picked. We all had a wonderful time.

Yet another toddler story. Sorry folks, but this is our life.

This story was relayed to me by Caleb over the phone. I, unfortunately, was still in bed when all of this happened. Reed likes to get Caleb up at 6:00am. I say "Caleb," because I have never been, nor ever will be, a morning person. I thought having a child would make me a morning person. When Reed was a baby, I even willingly got up every two hours to nurse him and stumbled blindly through my classes. However, when he reached 12 months and started sleeping through the night, I blissfully slipped back into my old habits of sleeping in, except that now, "sleeping in" means 8:30am instead of 10:30am. Luckily, Caleb is a morning person, so we have a sort of understanding about this.

So anyway, this morning, Reed came into our bedroom at six, went to a drawer, picked out a pair of Caleb's pants, handed them to Caleb and commanded "Pants On!" This is code for "Take me downstairs, feed me breakfast, put on Sesame Street, and then nap on the couch for another hour while I watch Big Bird." When Caleb got downstairs, he realized that Reed's clothes were still in the washer from last night, so he put them in the dryer while he napped on the couch and Reed watched Sesame Street. When he took the clothes out, Reed wanted to put his shorts on, but Caleb said "No, you can't, they're still too hot." Thankfully, Reed is very cautious about hot things, and we don't have to worry about the stove, but we do have to put every meal he eats in the fridge to "make cold" whether that meal is actually hot or not.

So Reed didn't want to wear the "hot" shorts. After they cooled down, Caleb tried to put them on him, but Reed kept shaking his head saying "No, too hot." "No, too hot." Finally, after multiple failed attempts, Caleb put Reed's shorts in the fridge.

Yep, that's right. The fridge. This is the kind of negotiating we do on a daily basis. He then pulled the shorts out of the fridge, let Reed feel how cold and crispy they were around the edges, and Reed put them on. Then, when they were ready to go (Caleb to work and Reed to preschool), Caleb slung his bag around his shoulder. It's sort of a briefcase, sort of a leather messenger bag. When Reed saw the bag, he shouted "My purse!" "My purse!"

"I----Want----A----Purse!"

(I should confess here that, sometimes, I let Reed carry my purse. He likes to sling it over his shoulder on the way from the car to the house). But, now, he apparently thinks that Daddy carries a purse too. Isn't that called a murse (man-purse)?

Dining out

Reed is very expressionate. At a family reunion recently, Caleb's Aunt Debbie, said "he's quite melodramatic, isn't he?" When he's upset, his little face will crumple up and he'll wail in despair. When he's proud, he'll clap his hands together and shout "I did it!" while jumping up and down. When I bring him home from preschool, he'll often run into the house with his hands up in the air shouting "Daddy, where are you?" Except that his speech isn't perfect yet, so it's more like "Daddy, ERE ARE U?"

I think his melodrama might be slightly compensatory. When his hearing was impaired due to chronic ear infections, Caleb and I would use lots of expressions and hand gestures to try and make our points. So as a result, he talks that way now, and I really love it. He's an awfully cute little performer.

Last night, we went to eat at Madeleines. We like Madeleines because the walls are purple, and it's filled with vintage furniture, but they also have a kid's menu and crayons. So we can feel like we're on a date, but we get to have Reed with us. Still, while Madeleines is child-friendly, it is no Chucke Cheese, so I expect Reed to be well-behaved when we're there, which usually isn't a problem because he's very good in restaurants.

This night, when Reed saw food being delivered to another table, he turned towards the swinging doors of the kitchen and yelled (loudly) across the restaurant with his hands quizically raised in the air

"GRILLED CHEESE, ERE ARE U?"

The moment was both mortifying and wonderfully priceless at the same time. I guess that's just life with a two and a half year old.

Life in the Fast Lane

Well, I've been gently prodded by Ab to update our blog, so here I am. I've been thinking about writing something for a while, but as a general rule, I assume that people are not interested in either:

A: Kelly's blood pressure or

B: Reed's potty training

(the two might be closely related, and are about the most interesting things happening in our household right now.)

So what else is happening with the Sundberg-Winters? Well, Caleb has received his contract, and is now an official Lecturer of Humanities with WVU rather than an adjunct instructor. At the same time, I'm receiving lots of information on graduate programs and salivating over the thought of the Monterey Institute in California or New York University, while knowing fully well that we can't move now that Caleb has his first real faculty position. I feel pretty confident about my chances of receiving a Teaching Assistantship for an MA in Tesol here at WVU. However, I was just informed by a Linguistics professor that the Foreign Languages program here is a mess and possibly in danger of losing it's accreditation. This has thrown me into quite the tizz since my attending graduate school here has been our plan all along. I'm trying not to panic and come up with other options, but since my options aren't likely to include relocating across the country again, I'm really hoping that those linguists get their act together.

I've also just started volunteering with Literacy Volunteers, a United Way partner that focuses on ESL (English as a Second Language) and basic literacy. I'm completing a self-paced training, and when I'm finished, I'll be paired with an ESL student who I'll meet with every week. It's a really exciting program, and they'll give me a lot of freedom to come up with lesson plans and a structure that fits both of our needs. I'm looking forward to interacting weekly with someone from a different culture. Right now, I interact mostly with my husband and 2 year old, and I love it, but I could use something new.

Besides that, nothing in our household has changed much. My parents came to Morgantown for 10 days, and that was really nice. We relaxed, and my mom did a lot of cleaning, which is pretty normal when she visits. We also went for plenty of walks and shopping. It was a great visit, and we were all sad to see them go. My dad had some pictures on his laptop from our trip to southern West Virginia last Fall, so I'll post them here even though I'm about 9 months too late.

Caleb and I went canoeing in Seneca State Forest.

This is a funny picture of Caleb. Our cabin didn't have electricity.

Here's my Dad with Reed. I guess I just think headlamps are funny.

This picture is from the latest visit with my parents. My dad and I were enjoying the Belgian beer that Caleb brewed himself. At some point, Caleb will probably post a blog about brewing beer. I hope you're interested in pH levels, because that's all I've been hearing about for weeks.

Here is Reed playing in the car that his grandpa and grandma Winters gave him. I posted this picture even though it shows the sorry state that our siding is in right now. I fully expect to pressure wash that moss off this week. I promise that we're not slobs. We live in a very wet climate--it's the kind of climate where moss grows on the walls.

A few days ago, Caleb tried to post a blog on our trip to Greece, but he got so frustrated with the picture posting that he gave up. He promises to try again, so hopefully, I won't be the only blogger in our household soon.

Cathedral State Park

As promised, some photos from Cathedral State Park. We don't really have any good ones from within the Hemlock grove because it was so overgrown that it was quite dark inside, but we have some from around the park. We had a good time, and Reed and Hank loved it.

Hank ran all over and pooped twice. The first time we were prepared and promptly disposed of the offensive matter. The second time came as a surprise, and we didn't know what to do with it. In a classic Hank move, the poo was spread out over a 3 foot radius. Caleb was frantically trying to sweep leaves over it while I said "Don't do that, then people won't be able to see it." Suddenly, a huge family full of kids came happily trotting around the corner. "Just leave it and pretend like nothing happened," I told Caleb. However, as we were trying to nonchalantly slide by, the kids yelled "Doggie," and they all had to take turns petting him as I looked anxiously at the dog turds just a foot away. After the kids were done and had moved on, we hurried away, but I could hear the family commenting on the little present Hank had left in the middle of the trail. It was quite embarrassing. On the way back, we swept it out of the trail with a stick.

On a side note, Hank had another great Hank moment on Friday when he dug himself under the back porch and got stuck. Caleb had to dig him out. Now, there is a 2 foot hole in our backyard. To put it lightly, our dog is a character.

Now on another side note.... Reed likes to write songs now. Right now Caleb's playing the guitar, and Reed is singing "Cookie monster, la, la Daddy, la, la Elmo, Mommy, Mimi, la, la Pappa, Mama, la, la Cookie...." He's our little budding musician.

And finally, some photos. And yes, Abbie, that's not a flower that Reed is smelling. It's Rush Skeleton Weed, but how was I supposed to disappoint him?

National Lampoons Front Porch

We live in a very nice, residential neighborhood here in Morgantown. It's not upscale, but it's firmly middle class, and people take pride in their homes and their lawns. A lot of our immediate neighbors are retired, and they seemingly have nothing to do but mow their lawns. One man mows his lawn every day without fail. Another mows his lawn at any time of day. He mowed at 9:45pm the other night. It was dark, and Reed was in bed, but hey, I guess if your lawn needs mowed....

Growing up in Salmon, I never really experienced this "Keeping up with the Jones." Back then, Salmon didn't have any "nice" neighborhoods. Every neighborhood was an amalgamation of fancy houses, nice houses, and clunkers with yards full of trash and a lady who likes to feed feral cats. My friend Megan's family had a beautiful house and yard, but right next door was a semi-trashy complex complete with a little redheaded kid Megan's mom dubbed "Denise the Menace," who was always lurking around trying to sell us her toys.

My parents had a very nice house and yard, but it was flanked by a house in the midst of a huge weed patch on one side, and a house with the old couple Ken and Lucy on the other side. Ken liked to yell at Lucy A LOT. Thankfully, Lucy was profoundly deaf in one ear, so when Ken would yell at her, she would pull out the lawn mower and mow the yard blissfully unaware of what Ken was yelling as he followed her around shouting obscenities in her faulty ear.

My parents really did have the nicest yard on the block, but they weren't super diligent about cutting the grass. My dad mowed the yard, but he mowed it once a week, not once a day, and he just left the clippings in the yard. He called them "fertilizer." I remember visiting my Grandma in Kansas and being amazed at how, not only was the grass cleanly mowed and clippings free, but the lines from the lawn mower all fell into a carefully thought-out vertical pattern. That kind of meticulousness in lawn care was just completely foreign to me.

So now, I own a house in one of those neighborhoods like my Grandma's. Unfortunately, Caleb and I aren't meticulous people. It's not that we're lazy. We both actually work very hard, but our yard isn't first on our list of priorities. We do a lot of yard work on the weekends, and we've planted a huge vegetable garden along with a flower garden, a lilac bush, and a hydrangea bush, but during the week, we sort of let things go.

All of the neighbors have pretty potted plants on their front porch, so I decided we should do up our front porch with flower pots that would be easy to maintain. For Mother's Day, Caleb surprised me with three lovely flower pots on the front porch. Our neighbor, Georgia, an elderly lady who has become like family, also gave me a ficus start to transplant. Our porch looked great for a couple of days. Then I don't know what happened.

Now our flower pots look like this:

And I guess I didn't transplant my ficus soon enough:
And if you look across the street, the neighbor's porch looks like this:
These pictures were taken a week ago. The neighbors have even more beautiful flowers in front of their house now. Despite my hardest efforts, our flowers actually look worse. I guess you can take the girl out of the Salmon, but you can't take the Salmon out of the girl. I'm just not cut out for keeping up with the Jones.

Two year olds

Reed has discovered whining. When he wants something now, his first mode of communication is via whine. It's really annoying, but I think it's a pretty normal stage for 2 year olds to go through. A book I read said that it's important to demonstrate to kids what whining sounds like, because they might not hear it themselves, so when he whines at me, I try whining back at him. He actually thinks it's really funny, and it seems to help, but I feel kind of cruel--like I'm making fun of him.

He really loves Caleb's guitar, and the other day, he wanted to get at the guitar on the bed. It's a big wooden bed that he can't climb up on, so he threw his arms up in despair and whined "guitaaaar." I said, "Reed, I don't hear your whiny voice, can you talk to me in your regular voice?" At this, he quieted down and said "guitar, ME?"

Well, at least it's an improvement. I'm not ready yet to start talking about issues of possession and how not everything in the world is "MINE." We'll get through the whiny phase first. He's awfully cute though.



He's going to be a musician like his dad and both grandpas.

This picture is blurry, but it shows how he likes to play slide guitar. Also, I swear that he owns more than one shirt. It's just coincidence that he's always wearing that shirt when I take photos.