This park has dozens of “dozers” and Uly is in heaven.

This park has dozens of “dozers” and Uly is in heaven.


I am not trying to be melodramatic, but my children’s car naps (which subsequently prevent real naps) are RUINING MY LIFE. 


It has come to this: Insomnia has finally led me to Instagram.

It has come to this: Insomnia has finally led me to Instagram.


(via eoporto)



Evening play at a nearby cemetery. It’s the perfect place, really. Quiet, shady, well-maintained, and filled with letters for Uly to search out — “Now find a Z!” As with everything else in my life, it’s the sense of history that draws me. Being in the US means nothing is all that old, though. Too bad — the older the better, I say. 
Also, I love the stories tombstones and their arrangements tell us. Family drama, loneliness, heroism, and heartbreak are everywhere. It’s great novel fodder. Funerary art is filled with symbolism and is pretty fascinating. How can you not imagine a half dozen life stories after an hour spent among these memorials? 
A surprising number of people have suggested my love of cemeteries is disrespectful or morbid. I don’t know about morbid — it certainly doesn’t feel morbid to me — but it sure as hell isn’t disrespectful. Do they imagine people spent fortunes on monuments so that they might be forgotten? That’s absurd. I really hope that someday a family with young children plays on my grave. In fact, I’m seriously considering a tasteful monkeybar motif for my tombstone. 

Evening play at a nearby cemetery. It’s the perfect place, really. Quiet, shady, well-maintained, and filled with letters for Uly to search out — “Now find a Z!” As with everything else in my life, it’s the sense of history that draws me. Being in the US means nothing is all that old, though. Too bad — the older the better, I say. 

Also, I love the stories tombstones and their arrangements tell us. Family drama, loneliness, heroism, and heartbreak are everywhere. It’s great novel fodder. Funerary art is filled with symbolism and is pretty fascinating. How can you not imagine a half dozen life stories after an hour spent among these memorials? 

A surprising number of people have suggested my love of cemeteries is disrespectful or morbid. I don’t know about morbid — it certainly doesn’t feel morbid to me — but it sure as hell isn’t disrespectful. Do they imagine people spent fortunes on monuments so that they might be forgotten? That’s absurd. I really hope that someday a family with young children plays on my grave. In fact, I’m seriously considering a tasteful monkeybar motif for my tombstone. 



How Trader Joe's selects new locations.

Pam: We're thinking about placing our new Trader Joe's right here (points at map)
Steve: Is it a location with a parking lot that cannot possibly support our needs?
Pam: Yup. Parking lot is far too small and terribly designed.
Steve: PERFECT!

(via pixie-mama)


Piggies

I walked into Uly’s room to find him playing “this little piggy” with Fletcher. The third little piggy ate marshmallows instead of roast beef.