Yes, those are the marks of fork tines in my son Gary's head. Sage, if you can believe it, dinged him today.
Two Thursday's ago, Samuel and I had his stay-up-late night. We like to play Battleship. He is such a charming fellow.
This is Lexi's new favorite spot. Probably because no one has yet proven capable of joining her up there, and personal space can be a hot commodity around here. You should see her shimmy up between the garden shed and the chicken coop/dog house. (Used to be a chicken coop, till the chickens got violent and we replaced them with a yellow lab puppy. She overwhelms the children too, but Chad is training her, and when she's out, we can put her on a long rope, and she can have some freedom, and the children can still play outside. We could never bring ourselves to put the chickens on leashes, so I think this is an improvement.)
Our new deck is, for the most part, finished! You can now step out my back door without plummeting ten feet. Big worry off my mind. 
This is me in my borrowed Dorothy-blue-gingham dancing skirt. I've been invited to participate in the Spanish Branch's May celebrations and learn some "bailar folklorica" (I'm sure I will be incredibly embarrassed when I find out how that is actually spelled). No, Sage does not have thighs of steel. My left arm is holding her up, and Lynda Hanks has almost ducked out of sight behind me.
We're off to see the Wizard, of Mexico?
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