DIA

We were discussing the unique look of the Denver International Airport, and Amy commented that it looked like a circus tent. She then asked, "Do you think there are any clowns that work there." My comeback was snappy, "Yes, they're called the TSA."

Garden Gloves

I need some better work gloves. I have garden gloves that work fine for weeding and such, but they don't do a good job of protecting my hand. I have been shoveling and then transporting a lot of dirt via a wheelbarrow lately, and it definitely shows... and hurts. It isn't so much the shoveling but the grabbing of a heavy, dirt-laden wheelbarrow that rubs my hand the wrong way. I even tried some of Chris' gloves but they are so loose that it just exacerbates the problem.

Tornadoes

For those of you not in the area, tornadoes have been touching down in various places of Colorado this afternoon. Our girls were sent home from school around noon, though I've heard that many schools were on lock down originally.

I was just hanging out with the fireplace guy. He had come to change out a piece on the outside vent for our basement fireplace. We have had problems with the fire extinguishing itself on windy days. Today was a perfect day to test the vent. And...it works perfectly. Mike, the fireplace guy, had come from Fort Collins and wasn't too anxious to return in that direction since a major tornado touched down in Windsor which is 5 to 10 miles from Fort Collins. We stood on the back patio and watched the clouds rumbling around in the sky, and there was no mistaking the circular motion they were making. The fact that we live a half a block away from a trailer court does not help us! You can see the roofs of all of the trailers in the bottom of the picture.


Misha came upstairs a bit ago asking if it was safe now. I said that the first storm had passed but that we needed to continue watching the clouds and listening to the news. Her response was, "Whew, my prayer worked." A little girl's prayer in the midst of a storm humbles my heart. Thanks, Misha.

Dyslexic Tongue

Many of Kristen's consonants are mixed up in her speech. If you are around her long enough, you begin to understand her language. Otherwise, you might just look at her and say, "Huh?" Kristen watched "Finding Nemo" the other day, and when she was finished I asked her what the fish's name was.

First, let me offer a little background. Her sister's name is Misha. Kristen calls her Nisha. I can say to her, "Ma ma ma Misha," and she'll repeat back, "Ma ma ma Nisha." Another funny one is salami. Kristen calls it "sanami". So I'll say to her "Sa sa sa lami, " and she'll repeat back to me, "Sa sa sa lanami." Kind of frustrating.

Back to Nemo. "What was the fish's name?"

Kristen's reply, "Memo." (long e)

"Can you say Nemo?" Heavy emphasis on the "N".

"Memo.

Okay, I'm thinking, let's try this. "What is Misha's name?" Her response, "Nisha."

Now we're getting somewhere. What's the fish's name?" Her response, "Memo."

Silly child. And this could go on for awhile (it did, but it would get monotous to both type and read.) I think she must have a dyslexic tongue.

Violin

I am looking for a 1/2 (changed from the 3/4 size) violin for Misha. If anybody has one they aren't using anymore, let me know. I am happy to buy it from you, but I don't want to spend a lot of money on a smaller size one--especially since I don't know what her commitment level will be.

Not for the faint of heart

Kristen isn't much of a nose picker. Whew. Others in the family (who will remain unnamed) have taken the opportunity to do a little exploring in their nasal cavities. Sadly, that is a bad habit to break. The other day, Kristen had stopped her descent down the stairs and said, "Poop."

"What?! Nooooo. Hold still." She's potty trained so this is a setback. I start climbing the stairs to see her holding out her pointer finger with a goober stuck to it.

"Poop, Mom." she expresses again and obviously wants me to remove it. I run to the kitchen to retrieve a tissue and remove the offending object. Ugghh.

"That's a goobie, not poop. There's a difference." I'd rather it not be poop any day!

How sad is it when you think about taking a picture for your blog? You should be grateful I didn't.

Summer Camps

I was showing Misha some summer camps sponsored by Carbon Valley Academy (open to any student). One of the options was a Community Service camp where students would participate in three community service projects throughout the summer. I asked her if she thought she might want to do it. She kind of hummed and hawed then said, "You already know what my answer is going to be don't you?" "Uh, no, I don't. What is it?" She looked at me as if to say "Duh, Mom." and then replied, "I don't even like doing my own chores...!" shaking her hands for added emphasis.

Fingernail Polish and Forgiveness

Last night I was doing the "Saturday is a special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday..." deal with my girls. They had showered, I had clipped 30 toenails and 30 fingernails, and it was required of Amy and Misha to remove the nasty, chipped, red and silver-streaked fingernail polish that had been on their nails for weeks. I then gave in and applied pink fingernail polish to those 30 toenails and 30 fingernails. Amy's comment as she was working to remove the old fingernail polish was pretty profound. "Mom, making the choice to put on the fingernail polish is like sinning and taking the fingernail polish off with the remover makes them clean again just like baptism."

Be Free Chihuahua

We were driving home from getting groceries at King Soopers this afternoon on Firestone Boulevard. As we were turning on to Birch Street, we spy a teenage boy chasing a little dog all over the road, onto the side of the road, in front of cars, back to the side, and then zipping around the corner. Fortunately, most of the cars had stopped for the boy and his dog. From the back seat of our car, we hear Amy cry, "Run, Chihuahua, run. Be free. Be free." It was hilarious.

Hold On

There's something about someone else using the bathroom that inspires Kristen to have an urgent need to be in there as well. You learn pretty quickly to lock the door behind you. Yesterday, Misha was in the bathroom and Kristen decided she need to go. "I'll be just a minute." Misha yells as Kristen bangs on the door. Kristen then comes to me, "Mom, I need to go potty." I explain that Misha will be finished soon and that she needs to "just hold on." I had to laugh when she grabbed the arm rest on my chair, "I hold on."