I never cared much for stuffed animals, even as a kid. Now when I tuck in my little girl, I have to look past and through the pile of stuffed animals to find her bed. The fluffier and softer her nest, the better in her book.
We're still reading through the Little House books. Kal and Kara beg for just one more chapter every night. They seem to sleep better thinking about the Ingalls family and imagining life that way for them.
That's as far as I got writing yesterday before I woke up from the wonky position in which I fell asleep.
Today started with Lucky Charms and ended with beanie weenies. They have some similarities in that the hot dogs you hunt for amongst the beans are the treasure in the dish, just like the dried bricks of sugar in Lucky Charms are the treasure amongst a bowlful of processed oat cereal.
The beanie weenies are the natural leftover meal from grill night. Leftover baked beans, though ours was half juice instead of beans, then cut up, grilled hot dogs tossed in to make a dish that probably only Americans would touch. Not fancy, but we had a refrigerator full of leftovers to eat.
I had fun making up car names today. I don't think I'll be hired anytime soon by the car companies, though. Still, it's fun to make up names:
Ford Fart (an electric car that wishes so badly to be a real car)
Chrysler Crybaby (what you do when you realize you didn't buy GM)
Subaru 'Skeeter (how Southerners are allowed to say mosquito; this would also have to be an electric car)
Cadillac Escapade (more fun to say than Escalade)
Toyota Toy Car
Bleep the Jeep
Dodge Rambo (a truck for Sylvester wannabes)
Honda Hot Wheels
After that fun and snickering to myself, plus our wannabe dinner of beanie weenies, Kara and I took a meandering country drive to sooth ruffled feathers, landing eventually at Pipe Creek Falls several miles to the west of our house.
We drove up and down the river, seeing lots of trees. Most trees were in solid ground, though we did see a few growing in a neglected gutter of a neglected plot of land.
Seeing weeds and trees everywhere they shouldn't be makes me want to get a whack-weeder out. Yes, whack-weeder is more fun to say than weed whacker.
The water level is very low right now, so the bedrock was visible in parts of the creek. Very beautiful no matter what time of year it is.
We should get some spin-off rain from the hurricane hammering Texas right now.
I've never been in a hurricane, so I have no idea the terror that accompanies one. I do know every area of the world has some version of bad weather that the locals have all learned to deal with.
Here, it's tornadoes that we get to dodge. Thankfully, we can hide from those in our basement.
Where do you go for a hurricane? It's so big and wide, you can't just hide in your basement or go to the next town.
With hurricanes and bugs the size of grapefruits, I don't think I'd make a good Southern girl, though I'd be willing to give it a shot if Kris ever happened to get a job in the South that moved us there.
Looking back on this post, I'm seeing the same sort of meandering thought that steered us around the countryside today south of the Wabash River.