Monday, May 31, 2010

Memorial Day


Because we know that Memorial Day is not just a day for grillin' and good times, we went to the beach on the Saturday before Memorial Day, along with hundreds of other folks. The water was cold and the sand was hot and Zeke loved every minute of it. Mike was a good Dad and took him out in the water, and they went a bit further out than I would have liked.


On Memorial Day proper we attended a flag raising, visited family and friends, and decided that next year we need to be more involved in meaningful activities. I was determined to remember to observe the 3pm moment of silence, but I was busy being a mom and forgot all about my resolve until late that night. Next year will be better.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Moving Along

We applied for an apartment (with a yard!) and we lost because we were second in line - someone else turned in his application before us. So the search continues, and Zeke seems to be a very game house hunter. He complains in the car because that's just who he is, but he loves to explore new places once we get there.

On an unrelated note, Mike has had some successful rides to work of late - no car accidents! We're now at 3 biking days without an injury...I've got to figure out how to add a gadget like that to the side bar.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Fountain



Zeke was helping me return a library book one evening when we found a fantastic water fountain. Any source of moving water interests Zeke, but this fountain was especially tempting. Instead of a pool of water, the water flowed over a black structure that was just Zeke's height.

He kept trying to drink the water,


even though I tried to stop him.


Here's his guilty look while he swallows:

The only problem was, I'm pretty sure it was reclaimed water. Ick.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Cannibal Party



Okay, it wasn't a Cannibal Party, it was a book club meeting, but we were reading In the Heart of the Sea by Nathaniel Philbrick and I couldn't resist the cannibal tie in. I hosted the meeting, which was something I was very nervous about doing. I kept thinking of excuses why no one would want to come to my house (it's small, I don't have a clue how to decorate, it's upstairs, I think my house smells of sour milk all the time, etc.), but it turned out just fine and I even relaxed enough to have a good time.
For the party I helped Mike make Lady Fingers (pictured above, and yes, it was Mike's idea to paint the "stubs" red), I made my mom's Summer Cooler punch with a large ice cube in the shape of a human hand,

and I made Hard Tack :

I used a recipe for the Hard Tack from a Civil War memorial society, so it wasn't exactly historical to the book. I enjoyed the Hard Tack because I was so very curious about what survivors of the Essex ate, and once I tasted how salty it was I decided that 93 days of 6 oz. of Hard Tack and half a pint of water was impossible.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Zeke goes apartment hunting

Mike and I have talked about moving since he started his new job with PubliclyTradedCompany. We originally told our ward leaders not to expect us after April 30, and, well, that was a little rash. Here it is, May, and we still live in CityByTheBeach, and we're mostly happy here, except that I hate the stairs that lead up to our apartment. If anything will motivate me to get serious about apartment hunting, it will be those stairs.
Well, last week I fell down those cursed stairs (just a little bobble on the second to last step) and I got serious about moving. I made an appointment for us to look at an apartment that very night. Here is Zeke checking out the kitchen:
We're learning that compromise is the name of the game. Upper level apartments are not okay, but townhouse style apartments are. A dishwasher would be nice, but is not a requirement. And we've expanded our geographical search. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea that an hour commute (one way) is normal for folks who live where we do.
Zeke checks out another kitchen:
One thing I'll never get used to is the price. I never thought I'd pay so much each month for something I'll never own.