Like R. Kelly, I am trapped...only I'm in the kitchen!

Thanks to pee on my kitchen floor way too often, Cookie and I spend the day in the kitchen together. Thanks to S for visiting me while the boys are at school.

She still just pees on the floor--and everytime, I am right there to catch her and move her outside, but she doesn't seem to mind the escort. I am getting a little more done, but only because I am putting her in her crate more, in spite of her sad whines. No miracles though. At least she hasn't pooped inside in days. Elaine--hold strong!

Birthdays, First Days, where do I begin?

Happy 10th F!! You know we love you beyond words, see Exhibit A.

Exhibit A. Cookie--all 2 lbs. 2 oz of her.

Poor F had to spend his birthday saying good-bye to summer, hello to school. Fortunately, school to F is what summer is to the rest of us, so he wasn't too disappointed.

And my little, middle, Stevie Wonder. He is too little to be headed off to such a big school. But with his Kermit "I'm a lover not a fighter" backpack on, he marched in ready as ever. As we headed through the doors he pulled me off to the side and pulled me down to his level. He said, "Mom, give me one more big juicy hug before I go." I fought back the tears (yes, I do cry sometimes) until I got back to my car. I am so glad that in my heart and mind though, I know he is where is suppose to be to become who the world needs him to be.

Dog Days of Summer (too cliche?)

We caved. After 8 years, we caved. Happy 10th Bday F!! We love you. Maybe not Cookie yet, but we are close.

Thanks everyone who has helped prepare us, warn us, mock us, encourage us, and help us celebrate when the first days arrived. Thanks fo the library and the Internet for having more books than I ever wanted to read (but did anyway) about how to be a "dog family." (Note the B was turned to a D and the y to a g!-funny Colbys)More dog stories to come, because isn't that what dog owners just do? Swapping dog stories--I can't wait...

So I am just doing this now?

The Lord has told us to plant a garden, to sow the earth, to eat foods in their proper seasons. Fine. I can obey that commandment. But I am not thrilled about it, nor do I love it.

As any good Mormon should, I planted tomatoes, zuchinni, yellow squash, and I threw some peppers in to highlight my own personal flair.

Last year, we got some tomatoes and zucchini, the weeds got some, and when we gave up, the remaining crop died on the vine. This year blight or something (not weeds) is trying to consume the plants filled with fruit before it can ripen. Gardening...rrrrr!

After being chastized by Jenny, and fearing I may lose what I have, I decided to at least pick what is growing. I have kept my Cuisinart on the kitchen cabinet to aid in that efffort and it has been working well. I had had tons of zuchinni though and not sure what to do with it. Finally, the lightening bolt hit--it, puree it! I have been using the Deceptively Delicious cookbook (spare me your commentary on it--I have read the criticsm, and I don't care--it's working for me!) and making purees. Why I didn't think about doing that with my 12 lb zuchinnis earlier is beyond me. Jack says it's because I am just getting smarter.
He also says I need to "claim my heritage" and just can vegetables, already! My Mormon roots coupled with my Southern upbringing, on paper, should mean I am a case of Mason jars away from a years supply of food, but I am just not ready to embrace either cultures in that way yet.

For book group this month, we are reading Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and I can't help but hear her echoing sentiments all too familiar. Why is it that coming from her it's this grand political statement I can align myself with, but I can't swallow coming from my mother or my Relief Society President? (Although, I can't 100% align myself with Kingsolver, because that goes back to me hating gardening, so...in the end it goes back to obedience anyway.)

But at least for the book group "Local Food Only Dinner" potluck, I can actually make salsa from my garden. Baby steps, right? Anyone have tortilla chips made from VA corn I can buy off you?

The beat goes on but the lyrics sure don't...

Driving home from the pool this evening, F busts out from the back of the van, "I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juke box baby!"

Sitting next to him, G sings, "I love rock and roll, put another dime in the juice box baby!"

S, squeaks from his middle row seat, sitting all alone, "I love rock and roll, apple juice, chocolate milk!"

Rock and Roll is dead.

We killed it.