My dad informed me I got the berry thing all wrong. Marion berries, which is what I thought I'd been picking out there, look different. I know, the name sounded a little fancy for such an awful plant.

I tried to figure out what the exact name is from a fancy site online, but I've completely forgotten anything that old college Botany class taught me. I've also forgotten the simple name my dad told me.

Oh well.
- posted by Christine @ 2:01 AM

 
With two small kids out on a bright moon-lit night, I decided to pull the ol' "ever see a moon gotcha?" on them. I said, "See? See the moon?" they leaned over. "Do you see it?" I whispered. "Yes" they both responded. "Gotcha!" I yelled and grabbed them both. They jumped, then smiled and giggled.

I then told them how I did that once to my stepson when his dad and I were dating. I figured all kids would like a moon gotcha. I still remember we were getting into my car in Tacoma and the moon was bright. "Hey Kevin," I said, "ever see a moon gotcha?"

I think I had to repeat that question about three or four times because, at the time, he was having a lot of ear problems and would soon get tubes put in. The scene was losing it's effect fast.

"What?" he questioned.

"See the moon?" I whispered as best I could with a kid who couldn't hear.

"Yeah..."

"Gotcha!" I yelled and grabbed him.

He looked at me and started crying. I remember him running into my car and his dad saying, "That wasn't very nice."

So anyhow, I re-told this story to my kids the other night and my daughter chimes in, "Maybe that's the reason Kevin doesn't like you."

Hmmm... something to think about.

- posted by Christine @ 1:50 AM

 
Nothing is more fun than a live coffin cam! If you're up for something rather morbid, here's a wonderful link for you to enjoy: Seemerot.com.
- posted by Christine @ 12:48 AM

 
Here in the Pacific Northwest we have these monsterous sticker bushes that grow big blackberries (I believe they're called marionberries), and although they don't taste as good as those tiny little blackberries (whose name I don't know), they aren't bad. The kids and chickens like them. So we go out on our property every couple of days and pick them.

The biggest problem with these sticker bushes is that they are the most prickly things I've ever encountered. We're not talking little stickers. These are huge thorns that dig right into your clothes, skin, hair, and don't let go. They don't "brush" by you unnoticed. If one gets within the vicinity of your body, it'll reach right out and grab on tight. Then another will sneak behind and poke another part of you. Before you know it, you're overcome.

My Californian, city-boy husband (who wouldn't be too happy I'm sharing this story online), had an encounter with these stickers last year while trying to measure how far it was for the cable line to be run across the property. Apparently big thorny bushes that grow about a foot a day didn't intimidate him, because he went out there, measuring tape in hand, without a care in the world. He was even wearing shorts.

No one was home when this occured, but when I got home and saw his skin sliced in rows, both arms and legs, I knew it was either a run-in with his ex-wife, or stickers. Apparently he was minding his own business when a sticker nabbed his shirt. In an attempt to get loose, another branch wrapped around another side of him. As he struggled, he was pulled down, backwards, into the sticker bushes.

I know this did not help his opinion of Washington State.

He said he laid there for awhile, embraced in barbs, before he was able to take off his shoe and use it as a brace to get himself back up and wrestle the bush. He got out finally, but a fair amount of blood was lost in the battle.

So a few months ago he made the whole family go out with clippers and rakes, and gain victory over the stickers. Then he mowed them all down with his "big man's" mower (the one without the cord).

The kids and I have been out in another section of the property picking berries and chuckling of the story of "dad in the stickers."

And as Ted says, I just love laughing at the misfortune of others.
- posted by Christine @ 3:26 PM

 
Tonight I'm working. My daughter comes into my office to say she's exercising "to get strong." Then I hear "Dancin' in the Streets" blaring in the rec room. I ask what they're watching, and she says, "I think it's a lady, or a maybe it's a man." I figure it out. The kids have found a copy of "Sweatin' to the Oldies" (my husband's ex-wife's copy), are dancing and, well, sweatin' to the oldies I guess you'd say. They appear to be really enjoying the video. At least it's good for entertaining the kiddies.

Now I hear "On Broadway...on Broadway..." Richard Simmons at his finest, I believe.
- posted by Christine @ 10:57 PM