I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn black

-- Paint It Black, The Stones

No, I'm not depressed, I'm preparing for our annual Halloween party. Every spare minute is spend draping anything that doesn't move with cobwebs, black paint, bones or fake blood. Food preparation is taking an unsettling turn, with finger-shaped cookies, black chicken (bat) wings, and other gruesome goodies. I love Halloween!

Thank goodness I enjoy preparing for this event, or I might actually find myself depressed after all. While all this party prep is going on our roofers decided to start a couple of weeks early so 5 men are banging away above me. I have to check the bathroom windows to make sure my privacy is secure before entering. The new patio that was supposed to be done a week ago is still being finished. I heard a rumor it will be done today, just in time to install stairs to reach it. (My insurance agent father is not too keen on us hosting a party for 60 people that could include grievous bodily harm). A nice gentleman is here fixing my oven, which is now completely pulled out of the cabinetry.

I'm also a bit behind because we were out of town for a long weekend. We had a great visit with my family, but my appointment with an endocrinologist ( the whole reason for the trip) was a bust. He thinks I need to see another endocrinologist at UVA ( another 4-6 month wait for an appointment). Not only am I discouraged and disappointed, had I known we were wasting our time I could have been home being useful. I am not a procrastinating, last-minute kind of girl. I make lists. I am organized. I am in control... Oh, god, who am I kidding? Perhaps the only person in control in the house this week is Kate, who keeps interrupting me to demand a snack, juice, help getting into a dazzling ball gown, etcetera.

Sorry no photos today, just wanted everyone to know that we are still here just incredibly busy. I should have some fantastic pictures after Saturday night...I've heard rumors that some of the costumes are a bit unusual. Should be a real "scream".

When I wake up in the garden

Peaceful slumber wakes my eyes

The sun and moon are always present

There are no more crying people around

--In The Garden, Susan Tedeschi

We have hit a new plateau with the short people. For the past 4 plus years we have been awakened before 6 a.m, sometimes 5:30, and even the occasional painful 4:45. To be fair there was also the occasional 6:15 and once, like a gift from heaven, a late, late 6:30. My personal favorite early morning moment was the year that Kate was a few months shy of one and we (STUPIDLY) agreed to host a New Year's party. Everyone left at around 2:30 or so, we put away about half of the food (but not Tom's hand rolled sushi...sorry) collapsed into bed, and were woken up before 6. Hung over. That one was our own fault.

But for the last week or so...I hope I'm not breaking the magic spell by talking about this...they have been sleeping until 7:00!!! What a treat. Tracy and I are thrilled. We can actually receive local weather on foggy days (only time we get reception), and I have even been able to lounge in the bed with coffee for 15 minutes. When the girls finally do wake up India turns off the night light, gets socks for herself and Kate, opens the door, and they scramble down the hall to our room like little squirrels. They love climbing into bed with us and snuggling under the covers for a few brief minutes before we are up and running. It's wonderful.

Clearly fog has been a big factor here lately. The first photograph is of a misty Onancock Creek. Fall on the Eastern Shore often equals fog. The schools are often on two hour delay due to fog this time of year, and I sometimes feel like I've stepped onto a movie set for Wuthering Heights as the heavy mist rolls across the fields from the bayside. Those days are perfect for warm tea and a good book...too bad the short people think foggy days are perfect for play-doh, messy baking activities, and endless rounds of dress-up.

On sunny days the Turmanators have been squeezing out every last drop of outside time. These girls love to be out of the house and winter is hard for us. We don't get much snow, just very cold dampness. So we "make hay while the sun shines" and enjoy the beauty of fall whenever we can!

In my mind a thousand times
I played the part and read my lines
You and I would be the stars
And I don't even know your name
--"I Don't Even Know Your Name" The Mavericks

"I not Taferine Penn (Katherine Penn) aaaanymo'. I don' wike dat name. I TIDDY TAT TATE (Kitty Cat Kate).

Kate has changed her name. Thank goodness she's unaware that it is possible to make the change legally binding or she would do it. She's quite adamant, and whenever anyone asks her what her name is she tells them it's Tiddy Tat Tate.

She made one of these name change pronouncements at The Book Bin; our local bookstore and coffee shop. They are promoting a Halloween activity for toddlers and asked to take a photo of Kate and my friend Andrea's son, Christopher, dressed in costumes relevant to the books they are promoting. The poor photographer was mystified when she asked Kate for her name. Funny, she seemed REALLY glad to get out of there (she doesn't have children) once she had managed one decent shot. Let's just say the two were less than cooperative.

Most of the rest of us enjoyed ourselves. Kate liked having her picture taken and was allowed to keep her magic wand so she was happy. Andrea and I were given a free coffee so we were happy. But poor Christopher didn't want to wear his pirate hat, didn't want to put down his lollipop, and was bonked in the head a few times as Kate tried to "magic" him with her wand. He's such a cutie and always wants to hug Kate but she is heartless and rejecting because he steals her snacks. Hopefully she will treat him the same when they are 16.

I should have remained in the Book Bin where my children are occupied and I can socialize and drink coffee. The yard is a wreck with patio construction and our new countertops are being installed as I write this. It is all very exciting, despite the chaos, even though I have buyer's remorse approximately every other day. This old house has it's drawbacks, but it has a lot of personality and warmth and we are thrilled to add our touches.

One of my favorite things about the patio installation is the excavation because I am discovering all kinds of artifacts in the dirt. Here's a sample of yesterday's finds. They are pictured on our old countertops...bye bye ugly, old, cracked, blue laminate! Tracy is sick of me scavaging for treasures. Anyone want to dig in the dirt with me?

Strange how hard it rains now

Rows and rows of big dark clouds

When I'm holding on underneath this shroud

Rain

--"Rain" Patty Griffin

What do you do when your yard looks like this AND the television is on the fritz? Boogie to some bluegrass, of course! The short people's love of the genre is growing...not sure if I'm as pleased as their father. I like bluegrass as well as the next girl (okay, maybe a little more than the next girl, since it's really not all that popular) but I don't want to hear it EVERY TIME I turn on the stereo or get in the car. Kate requests "a wittle music fo' my feet" to inform me she craves that high lonesome sound. They particularly favor The Mammals "Fall On My Knees" (see http://www.themammals.net/) because there is a "whoo!" they love to sing along with. India emphatically informed me today that "every song should have a "whoo! in it".

And what do you do while you listen to bluegrass? You play the Angelina Ballerina memory game, of course! Thank you, Clare. The girls had a great time and India and I conspired to give Kate a few matches so she wouldn't be too discouraged. Notice Kate's blanket "bebe" in the background; she managed to literally sweep the board a few times as she manhandled her ratty lovey. Allen and Sarah, if you are reading, it's the one you knitted for her and it's still her fave.

I spent a few rounds of the memory game cramming various fruits and vegetables into chicken orifices and boiling chicken unmentionables to make a broth. Not one of the most pleasurable moments in cooking for me, but Tracy's parent's home-grown potatoes should make a delicious addition to our roast chicken tonight. Thanks for the bag, guys!

There is a town in north Ontario

With dream comfort memory despair

And in my mind I still need a place to go

All my changes were there

--"Helpless" Neil Young

We had a weekend of flashbacks. We took a trip to Patrick and Carroll Counties for Tracy's 20th high school reunion and to visit my grandmother and my grandfather. We had a great time and laughed a lot (thanks, Cliff and Rebecca, for the most hilarious party recap ever...my stomach was sore the next day from laughing so hard!).

We had the opportunity to walk around Stuart a bit and run into some familiar sights and faces. It is quite surreal to visit a place you last lived in 1989 and find so much the same. I saw an old neighbor, a friend's father, another friend's mother, and lots of other people and places I knew a long time ago.

My grandmother "Makey" will be 90 in a few weeks, and my Aunt Katie took her to Myrtle Beach one last time over the weekend. We arrived in town in time to see her off. I've watched her age so quickly in the last few years that each time I visit I worry that it will be the last time. I love to watch her with our girls and wish they could know her like I do. What an amazing woman she was and is; losing her mother at an early age, living in a barn with her father and 5 sisters after their house burned down, suffering several miscarriages, losing her husband when her children were teens, operating her own business in what was at the time a man's field, surviving cancer, and this weekend taking off for a 6 hour trip that is probably beyond her both physically and emotionally. But she did it! Clare, notice her mouth is open in the photo as always, and I even said "don't forget to close your mouth, Makey!".

Visits to my grandfather in Carroll County are bittersweet. Since my grandmother passed away in the spring he is lonely and often tearful. He is growing thinner and more bedridden, and visiting in a nursing home is never easy. But his health seems good and he is always so glad to see us, as are we to see him. During one visit they wore princess gowns and tiaras, which created quite a stir amongst the other residents as well! I suppose they don't receive much royalty in the Galax nursing facility.

Tracy's class reunion was a blast. The short people enjoyed the family portion, especially because they were able to meet our friends Cliff & Rebecca and Dena (Cliff and Rebecca gave India her "lovey" and they have grown up hearing Dena stories from my childhood). India can't stop talking about her new friend Anna; they seemed to form some sort of instant bond. And India was excited to see our friend Randy because she knows him and will always remember the time he was visiting and she "throwed up" and had to go to the hospital. The evening was, of course, the most fun. It was great to see so many familiar faces and catch up as well as tell old stories. The DJ mixed the typical 80s music, there were lots of surprises and lots of folks who hadn't changed one bit! Mike and Brooke, so glad you came by, too. The evening made me really look forward to my reunion next year. I had such a good time that my camera sat on a table, untouched, for the entire party.

Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own

Spinning, laughing dancing to her
favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone
--Seven Years, Norah Jones


Tutus are de rigeur with the short people; Every day is a ballet. India is full-tilt into her class and LOVES her instructor. "I wish Miss Dana was my Mommy!", she cried after a day of head-butting with me. Oh, how that stung.

And Kate is counting the months until she can be a "bawawina" like her big sister. A friend gave Kate a pair of ballet slippers her daughter had outgrown, and each Monday we must pack them for Kate to wear while she and I wait in the green room during India's lessons.

You give me fever, when you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever in the morning

Fever all through the night

-- Peggy Lee

Yes, I've been sick. Again. It won't be long before I've run out of music quotes that involve illness. If you can think of any, send them just in case. I know you are all tired of hearing about it, because I'm tired of reporting it. I have an appointment with a specialist in Richmond in a few weeks and hopefully we will get down to the bottom of all this sickness soon. Enough about that.

Before I got sick I managed to get a shot of a sign that is the topic of much conversation here on the Shore. Daughty's Market is infamous for posting the names of folk who haven't paid their account. There have been some amusing ones, but this is the first time I've gotten one on film. My favorite was a man named "Marvelous Jubilee". That is a real man, and it is his REAL name. We know this because Tracy had to attend driving school with him (a whole other story).

Since Daughty's is infamous for selling mostly beer and scrapple (if you don't know, don't ask) I would have thought the good Reverend would be so embarrassed that he would rush in to pay his bill, but this little gem has been up for two weeks.

Now that I'm back among the living we might actually leave the house; I'll have some new photos to post soon. Thanks to all who have checked in.

A Little Floyd For the Short People

IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT,

HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING?

HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING

IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT?

--PINK FLOYD

Actually what India said last night was "Kate, how can you have any pudding if you don't eat your beef?", but what's the difference, really? They both looked askance at me as I quoted the correct lyrics in a loud, terrible British accent. Several times. Guess what album was stuck in my head the rest of the night?

Today was a busy one. Off to playgroup, rush home for lunch and naps, then my goddaughter Anne arrives for a play date while her mother, Susan, had a meeting with Ellie's kindergarten teacher.

I sat outside and worked crossword puzzles while the girls played.A little helper dropped onto my page when I was stuck. Can you believe how tiny he is?



John came by after work and all the Masons stayed for an impromptu dinner when Tracy arrived home (finally!) at 6:00. We kept our girls up too late for a school night, but the grown-ups were having fun and the short people and company were enjoying watching Mary Poppins. We take advantage of any quiet we can get with this foursome!

Watermelon picture 2006

see that watermelon smiling through the fence

i wish that watermelon it was mine

sometimes i think that old folks ain't got a little sense

when they leave that watermelon on the vine

well apples are sweet and peaches are good
rabbits so very very fine

but give me oh give me

oh how i wish you would

some of that watermelon smiling on the vine

-- Dave Matthews Band

Starting India's first summer we began producing an annual photograph of the Short People posing with a sample of our watermelon crop. This tradition began when my Aunt Katie gave India a "onesie" covered in watermelons; the picture was cute and a friend suggested we make it an annual event.

We have done this without fail, even the summer after Kate was born and we forgot to plant any watermelons. I scrambled at the end of the season, searching in vain, and in desperation finally bought two "personal watermelons" (whatever they are) from the market at a price tag of about $50 a piece. Cheater.

This photo collection hangs in our kitchen, and we'll keep going until the Short People rebel and declare themselves too cool to adorn themselves with clothing festooned with pink and green fruits.

Today the girls enjoyed eating the watermelon but had a much more exciting time sharing the rinds with Daisy. Daisy, like most labs, will eat anything, but has a penchant for melon rinds and corn husks...guess she has a clean digestive tract!

Taking the photos was the last task we accomplished before saying goodbye to Tracy. He is off to the Hotel Roanoke (yes, I am pea-green with envy) for a four day convention. Have a wonderful time, TT, enjoy the solitude and argument- and ketchup-free meals, and we'll see you Wednesday night!

Down With Disease

Down with disease

Up before the Dawn

A thousand barefoot children outside dancing on my lawn...

But when I think it's time to leave it all behind

I try to find a way to but there's nothing I can say to make it stop

--Phish

Just two weeks into preschool and already India has brought home a lovely case of upset stomach to share with the other 2 Turman girls (photo above is from her first day). Been stuck in the house for two days and canceled dinner and lunch plans with friends and their children...didn't want to spread the joy, of course. The word on the street is this fabulous virus is making it's rounds on the Shore; we always love being the first to try out something new.

Today we are watching Mary Poppins while dressed in every possible combination of crowns, mardi gras beads, dress up clothing and scarves. Later we will wreck the kitchen by spreading play-doh (yes, Janice, the dreaded play-doh) through the kitchen and pressing in in the cracks of the floor (very colorful). Unfortunately it is too wet to go outside. I'm still trying to jump-start my fuzzy brain to come up with afternoon activities that prevent abject boredom and frustration. We'll see how it goes.

Did you see them in the river?

They were there to wave to you.

Could you tell that the empty quivered,Brown skinned indian on the banks

That were crowded and narrow,

Held a broken arrow?

--Neil Young

Five years ago today I had just left the Jones Institute for Reproductive Technology in Norfolk after having been poked and examined inside and out by 15 residents and giving a quart of blood to measure my hormone levels. I was in the pharmacy waiting for my $1000 worth of medication when I watched the bombings unfold on live television. I hurried to my car to cross the Bay and return to work as military planes and boats scrambled all around me; I was one of the last cars across before they closed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. Two weeks later I discovered that this fateful day had begun the process that would give me my India.

Where were you?

Bear in the Big Blue House

Welcome, welcome welcome to our big blue house,

Welcome, welcome, welcome to our big blue house,

Door is open, come on in!

It's 6am and I am up. Up and watching "Bear and the Big Blue House". Ninety-nine per cent of our childrens' television watching occurs between 6 and 7 in the morning because the short people are evil, subversive, communist beings who enjoy torturing their parents. Once I can pry my eyes open and stagger to the kitchen for coffee I usually hit the computer for something a little more stimulating than Miffy or, god forbid, the Wiggles.

This morning we are being entertained by "Bear in the Big Blue House". This is a perfectly fine show in the tradition of Jim Henson, but it's difficult for me to watch because I always recall the first time I ever saw this program.

It was December 7, 2003, 6:00am. I was laying on a child-sized hospital bed holding India tightly as she finally gave in to exhaustion and slept for the first time in almost 24 hours. She was 6 months and one day old and had to be held all night to keep her from tearing out her nasogastric tubing and IV. The day before, on her six month birthday, she was admitted to the Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters (CHKD) for "failure to thrive".

What got her there is a long complicated tale involving misdiagnosis, dismissal of me as a hysterical first-time mother, and several treatment wrong turns that worsened India's symptoms. Finally, during this week at CHKD after an exploratory surgery, steps were begun to help India become a healthy, normal baby.

So December 7 I'm laying there in this bed, exhausted beyond words and so emotionally over-the-top that this therapist lacks a pat phrase to neatly package the feelings, the tv in our room is showing "Bear" and, helpless to move or change the channel, I watch.

The episode was a Christmas one, in which the characters find a homeless dog alone and cold in the woods and take him in. Bear tries to explain homelessness to his friends and one of them sings a song that, at the time, was so heartbreaking I could not tolerate it. The floodgates opened, and I cried.

"Cried" is probably not the most appropriate wrd choice. "Racked with sobbing", "quietly wailing", or even "hysterical" are better descriptors. That show...that SONG (oh, it was soooo sad in my memory) had allowed me to finally break down.

So now I stiffen a little whenever "Bear" is on. And at Christmastime I fervently hope to never see that episode.

About 3 months after India's week-long hospitalization she was almost completely healthy and now is just like any other four year old girl. It is easier, most of the time, to let go of some of those darker memories and be so, so thankful for this beautiful, healthy creature that we almost didn't have at all and then almost didn't get to keep. And ultimately it is this beautiful gift that I remember whenever I think about the darkest point of our lives. My sweet, smart, funny, four year old India.

But I still don't like to watch "Bear".

This Old House

This old house is gettin' shaky

This old house is gettin' old

This old house has seen the rain

This old house has seen the cold...

Ain't got time to fix the shingles

Ain't got time to fix the floor...

--Brian Setzer Orchestra

HELP! I'm drowning in home improvement projects. We are simultaneously painting the dining room (I'm flying solo on that one), installing an exhaust system for our oven, having our kitchen cabinets slightly restructured, installing new countertops, new roof and copper guttering over one section of the house, ordering some unfinished bookshelves for our den, pricing patio installation, and waiting for a claims adjuster to estimate our damage from Ernesto. The damage includes water spots on several walls, shingles and window screens down, loss of two telephones and a front door that is swollen shut. I think that's it. I may have left out a project or two, it's difficult to keep track at this point.

For someone who likes things organized this is torture. It doesn't help that you have to pass through the dining room to move from the den to the kitchen or bathroom! There is no way to avoid the ladders, sheeting, paint cans and paraphernalia that litters the floor. Most days I walk around with at least one of four colors of paint splotched on me somewhere...my house and I are both wrecks.

It is helpful that India started back to preschool on Thursday so I have a little more time to take care of some of this stuff. She marched into school with only one small wobble of her chin and had a marvelous day.When we picked her up she was full of tales from her day and gave Kate a HUGE hug, telling her "I missed my Katie all day!". For her part, Kate repeated "I miss Heenya soooooo much" about every 20 minutes throughout the day.

After school we celebrated with some of India's friends by having a "backwards" dinner (dessert first). Bet you can guess how much chicken India and Kate ate after their chocolate sundaes! Things got a little rowdy in Stella's after dinner; we tipped the poor waitress well and will just cross our fingers that we will be allowed back.

Let it rain, let it pour,

Let it rain a whole lot more,

'Cause I got them deep river blues.

Let the rain drive right on,

Let the waves sweep along,

'Cause I got them deep river blues.

--Doc Watson (orig. Delmore Brothers)

Ernesto was full of surprises Friday as it slammed the Eastern Shore with havoc-wreaking wind and rainfall. We were pummeled with gusts that reportedly reached a top speed of 73mph, and unconfirmed rainfall totals waver between 8 and 10 inches. The Turmanators were caught completely off-guard (odd, since Tracy is head of the Eastern Shore Disaster Planning Coalition, but you know what they say about the cobbler's children having no shoes). Normally I have potable water, non-potable water, food plans, ice, etcetera, but NOT THIS TIME.

The short people and I went about our business Friday until the power went out at 1:30pm. It was a rough afternoon, filled with play-doh, crayons, emergency stashes of toys and anything else I could think of that didn't involve going outside or needing to see each other all that well...it was dark! The real trouble began when I walked into the laundry room and stepped into a puddle; water was dripping through the ceiling air vent. I frantically checked the house and found 5 leaks, 2 of which were hitting my great-grandmother's studio grand piano! Some of the leaks were coming through the clapboard siding because the rain was horizontal in the wind.

I scrambled around for 45 minutes throwing tarps, towels and buckets on everything while simultaneously refereeing the short people and preventing the entire kitchen from being coated in a film of play-doh. By 4:00 the driveway contained a pool, some major tree limbs were down, sheets of shingles were blowing around the yard and Tracy had made it safely home after backtracking twice to avoid flooded roads and downed trees. By 6:00 the wind and rain finally subsided and we went outside to survey the damage...not too bad.

Several hours later when it became necessary to flush a toilet we discovered that our decrepit claw-footed tub had not held one drop of the water I had filled it with hours before! No spare water...'til Tracy filled a 5 gallon bucket from some of the ponds outside. We ate dinner, listened to music on the radio and tucked the girls into bed (EARLY, I might add) via old fashioned hurricane lamplight.

Yesterday left the house at 7am and spent the entire day across the Bay in Virginia Beach, arriving home at 5:30 just as the power and our phones were turning back on. Heaven! Thank you, Delmarva Power and Verizon. Thank you, modern civilization.

We seem to be mostly unscathed, minus some roofing and leaking issues. You can bet that I'll be stocked to the gills for the next little thunderstorm!

Still having photography+computer issues...I'll go back and add some later.

You are what you eat?

The other day Kate ate bird poop. Not once, but twice. Yep! India runs frantically to me, out of breath, exclaiming "Mommy, Katie ate some bird poop! [disbelieving expression] I am serious!"! Kate looks on, sour-guilty. We had a big talk about how disgusting that was, yet she turns around and DOES IT AGAIN the next day! It was the purple stuff; must have looked good to her, I don't know. Anyway....

Yesterday the girls had to stand on tiptoe in a doctor's office to see a woman talking to them. Both rested their lips on the rim of her counter. The woman and I explained with gusto to India and Kate about all the germs on the counter and I (ever out for the laugh) felt compelled to share with this woman that Kate puts everything in her mouth, including the infamous bird poop. Katie, my little fury, clenches her fists and yells at the top of her lungs "I DON' EAT BIRD POOP ANY MO!!!!!!!!!!"

Not to be outdone in the humor department, India announces to Tracy this morning "Daddy, your hair is almost off. It's nekkid, too." Poor Tracy, with the ebb tide of male hair, has just gotten an extra short haircut.

Having a little problem getting the camera and the computer to share...hopefully can come back and add some photos soon.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLARE!

My sister taught me everything I really need to know, and she was only in sixth grade at the time. ~Linda Sunshine

P.S.- Check out my groovy coat and rust-colored cords. Aahh, I miss the 70's.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot

A hint of autumn is in the air on the Eastern Shore. Nothing I could put my finger on, maybe a drop in the humidity, but the air is different. Bluer skies, cooler mornings, and the running of the woolly caterpillars. My second-favorite season...my favorite being autumn's sister-twin, spring. This transitional season is too, too brief and the Turmanators are soaking in every bit of outdoors time we can.

Friday I took the girls to Assateague Beach, which is off Chincoteague Island and about 40 minutes away. Not my first choice of beaches here, but some friends chose to go and invited us along. Assateague is on the seaside and is considerably rougher than the bayside, so I haven't been up there since I was pregnant with India. The girls didn't do much swimming because the waves were just too gnarly for the short people, but they had a great time playing with friends, digging holes and chasing seagulls.

The first photo is of Tom's Cove, a great little cove for canoeing and kayaking, as you can see, or for crabbing and bird watching. You might even see the occasional Chincoteague pony if it is low tide. To the right (out of range of the picture) is the famous Assateague lighthouse. BC (Before Kids) we did a lot of kayaking up here.

The seagulls on Assateague are evil, nasty vultures in disguise. The instant they spy folk eating they spread the word and, suddenly you are surrounded by every beach pigeon on the Delmarva Peninsula. The kids took to throwing sand balls at them after they took a cracker right out of Henry's hand. Yuck! This brazen behavior is shaped by obnoxious tourists to Chincoteague who love to feed them and go home to leave the rest of us to live with the insufferable birds. Poor Ellie was dive-bombed here like Tippi Hedren in "The Birds". One can only imagine the bird-poop; I won't go into details here.

Friday night we held a camping dress rehearsal. We chose a wonderful locale as near as possible to the relative safety of beds, nightlights, and familiar surroundings...the backyard. Luckily we have a big one with no visible neighbors. My girls (whose first words were both "side" for "outside" LOVED it. Loved it, that is, until 10pm when these 8pm bedtimers still weren't able to sleep and requested that we take them back into their home for the remainder of the night. Too bad, Tracy and I had a great view of the stars and were lucky enough to witness a couple of shooting ones. The fire kept the mosquitos from carrying us away but I will say we're all covered in Benadryl creme this morning. Oh, well. We'll try again next year. "Til then, maybe we'll just stick with making s'mores.