If at first you don't succeed.......try shoving it in backwards!

How many large objects can a person fit into a bike cart? If you're Levi who is forever shoving items into the bike cart and hauling them around....several.



This post the pictures tell a better story than words.




And he's off!!!




Until the alligator teeter totter meets the mailbox sending the driver sprawling.




At which the driver announces, "I'm okay".......gets up......




and gives the offending mailbox a dirty look for jumping out at the alligator.




On he rides until the neighbors fence also jumps out and tries to attack the alligator at which point..........Levi knocks the fences block (fence post cap) off. He has a habit of doing this. Sorry Van Wagoner's. I promise, I did mean to run down and put that back on but until posting these photos.....I kind of sort of forgot as I was caught up in this adventure.




Levi changes tactics and decides it is time to move the alligator from the front to the back. Less likely to cause problems if facing backwards.




Nothing to it. All is right in the world of bike cart hauling.




Every time Levi turns around in the VanWagoner's driveway I cringe and pray a hundred times that he doesn't bif it and scratch up all of their beautiful white new vehicles. No one should be allowed to have new vehicles where Levi rides. My nerves can't take it.

Not to worry........this time......he makes the turn and starts to head back.




Only to have the infernal alligator jump out of the back.




Levi is taking no guff from alligator. Back in he goes and is told he is grounded if he pulls anymore shenanigans.



Levi looks back and gives alligator a warning eye reminding him that the offending mailbox is coming up and he is to do nothing to antagonize it.



They make it! And all is well. Phew! Life as a bike cart hauler is a serious business.

The little boy and his hat!

Once upon a time there was a little boy who lived in a village with several natives.




The village was a prosperous village in many ways and all were encouraged to learn a craft.



The village mum decided she wanted to embrace color and took up knitting.




So excited she was at her knew found craft that she decided to make her baby girl a hat.....only to find out......that the needles she was using were too small......so the hat was too small...........




So the little boy got the hat. The End!

P.S. The pattern for this hat is in this book.

Step No. 1 to conquering addiction. Admit you have a problem. But I don't have a problem....

As you all know I've taken up knitting.......or it has taken me up. I'm not sure which. Maybe both as some days it consumes me........ or I consume it.

I wasn't in too much trouble when I first started but the internet can be an evil evil thing. Take a look at this little sunhat! How can I NOT make that for my baby girl?









Do you see what I mean? You take just one little peek thinking, "What harm can it do" and next thing you know you are addicted and can't stop and you're looking for more and more patterns and your family is asking you to go to 12 Step to quit the addiction. But you don't want to because it's therapeutic! It's cheaper than therapy!! At least that is my story and I'm stinkin' to it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a hat I'm finishing up for my baby and when I get it finished I'll post pictures here for you and then you'll want to knit too. Then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about because we'll be sitting side by side at 12 Step denying that we have a problem.

What are Lederhosen?

Lederhosen ("leather trousers" in German; singular: "Lederhose") are knee-breeches (knickerbockers or shorts) made of leather. (Or if you're working at a booth at Swiss Days helping your mother dip candles, Lederhosen are what your mother makes you wear even though you are in college majoring in Chemistry and quite eligible to all of the young ladies walking by taking special notice of your lederhosen....I wonder what she bribed him with. "Son, I won't pay for your college unless you wear these lederhosen.")


I decided to get in touch with my Swiss side this past weekend. You didn't know I was Swiss? Me neither! But I love cheese and when I yell at The Natives it sounds like I am yodeling and I love a good braut so there must be some Swiss in my blood somewhere down the line but only part Swiss because I don't like sour krout.

Last month it was my Polynesian blood that I got in touch with. You didn't know I was part Polynesian? I didn't either until I tasted Kalua Pork and then I knew for sure that back somewhere down the line there must have been a Polynesian woman that married my Jewish great great great great great great grandfather Himy. Oy! Bet that upset the family!

Anyway, enough of my genealogy. I attended Swiss Days and boy was that a load of fun and speaking of loads.......I didn't bring my camera because I wanted all arms and bags available for all of the stuff I planned on buying. Stuff that I couldn't live without and would just die if I didn't buy it. That would be the Irish in me coming out. No wait......when I DON'T spend......that is the Irish in me. Must be my Aboriginal blood coming through. I'm part Aboriginal too!

So, you're just going to have to take my word for it that I had a great time with the ladies I went with and I'm sorry I kept away for so long but it is important for one to get in touch with one's heritage from time to time.

My Father-in-Law's Sense of Humor

P.S. You need to click on the photos to see them better.

P.P.S. Is it really a post script if it is the first thing you've written and if not......would it be a B.P.S.? A before post script?



The SM's family had a family reunion this summer and they kindly extended an invitation to me. What were they thinking? I dunno but they let me come and it was very nice of them.

The Scout Master's father likes to put together "awards" and presents them each evening to the unlucky, I mean lucky winners.




Can you guess what my award was? And to think........he went to the trouble of making this just for me! Everyone should feel so loved.

Don't......do........it............

We've talked about this before but I think it is getting worse......





My phone phobia. I wasn't always this way! As a teenager I loved talking on the phone, up to a few years ago I didn't mind and then all of a sudden......it became this thing. This thing that makes the Bogey man that lives under your bed seem like a sweet puppy!

The phone rings and I sit.....and I listen to it ring....and ring.....and ring...and ring and I think, "Nooooo! I'ts gonna blow! Run for your lives"! What ever you do, DON'T ANSWER IT because......what? Who's going to be on the other end? You know darn well who is going to be on the other end because you have Caller ID and you sit staring at the Caller ID daring the voice on the answering machine to match the Caller ID cuz what if it doesn't? What if.......it makes you want to *think* it is your best friend calling when in fact..........it ISN'T even when you hear the voice on the answering machine and it *sounds* like your best friend........IT'S NOT!

Do NOT pick up the phone. It is a trick and it will suck you in and I HATE IT when The Natives go running to the phone and fall under its evil disguise answering the phone and then what do they do? They hand the phone TO ME and then give me this...."what" look like I have some big problem or issue and then I give them the glare eye and think, "ya, I was like you once. I used to run to the phone, could talk for hours......don't you worry.....it'll happen to you one day.....just you wait......someday........you're gonna grow up.......and be.......JUST LIKE ME!!!!! HA HA HA!"

The worst though......is when the SM does it too. No one in this house respects me.

Potty chair......only it's not a potty chair.

You would not believe what I caught this Native doing yesterday! I turn my back for one minute!! I walked into the house to get a pair of scissors, walk outside, and here is this native standing on the sidewalk next to the street, pants down, relieving himself filling the little kiddie chair that I sit on all the while chatting with Levi about who knows what as if this is something you see and do everyday.

I tell you, there are no parenting books out there that give you any suggestions on how to keep the giggling you are doing inside from being heard in your voice as you are scolding your two babies who don't get that what they've just done isn't normal or GROSS!

Cars are passing back and forth in front of our house and here is the baby filling a chair! When I got after him and told him not to do that ever again he said, "how come"? How come? Because it makes me look like a bad mum and like I've raised you in a barn okay??? I've an image to uphold and I don't need you two letting the rest of the world know it's FAKE!