He Wouldn't Stay Out of the Bird Feeder

...so I shot him. 

Stupid squirrel.

(For all you nature lovers out there, he's a red squirrel. They are allegedly evil, running off all other good squirrels with their evilness. We warned him for years. This morning he got his last warning when I threw a rock. Got darned near close too, but the stupid animal just stopped instead of running away. When he came back this afternoon, I pulled out the weapon and sent him to meet his maker. The varmit that lives under the shed is next. I'm just saying.)

Katie asked, "Is this the first time you ever...?"
Yes, Katie. It's the first time.

Caroline said, "This is a GREAT story to tell Daddy!"

Jac said, "I want a shooter!"

This is what a bird feeder should look like. That's one of our Cardinals.

This is the mama in the tree next to our house.

This is her first hatch-ling, all pink and squishy looking.

The other little birdie hatched a day later and she still sits on them, keeping them warm in this very cold spring weather. They are beautiful with a few feathers now. So nice to have a new family in the neighborhood.

I love spring and the whole circle of life.

We're growing Painted Lady Butterflies upstairs.
This is the chrysalis stage, of course.

This is also the "chrysalis" stage of the lawn.
We only got 2 days to mow in the past month; 'tis not enough time!

We're thankful it's only rain as so many people hide from horrific weather.

Hope remains strong. Except for that squirrel. 

He's gone.

All Time Low

We just returned from our little country grocery store, a place we visit at least weekly. I'm unloading the milk, bananas, apples, tomatoes, onions and yogurt onto the belt when the cashier says, "Is any of this WIC, hon?"

Well no, it's not WIC.

And if you need to ask me that question, I need several things...
1. a month at a spa in Scottsdale, Arizona replete with cucumbers on my eyes, mud on my shoulders and someone massaging my feet.
2. shoes. I was wearing pink Crocks. obviously a sure sign of a woman on welfare.
3. a  maid. to go to the store for me and be humiliated herself. (or flirt with Sam the butcher and have a grand old time. either way, I'm not there. that's the point.)
4. make-up.
5. a hair-do without a clip in it.
6. time to make all of above a reality.

Instead, I'm going to continue taking care of and home schooling my five children and buying them bananas and apples, yogurt and tomatoes. All things that apparently the government thinks are OK to feed your children because they "fit the program." Whew! At least I qualify for a government program on my shopping list.

Thanks for Sharing

This morning Jac came into my bathroom covered in blueberry muffin. This is significant because Jac's nickname is "Muffin." (and in this photo she looks like her cousin, Sarah! or Sarah making a silly face.) I asked her to climb up on the stool and wash her hands. She picked up the beautiful bar of blue and white soap from my sister's shop and said, "I like this soap."

"That's Aunt-Nicki-soap," I said.

Jac replied, "And we're borrowing it!"

Thank you for sharing with us, Aunt Nicki.

We love you and your soap. (That's our last bar, by the way.)

Preparedness

Tonight Andrew came downstairs after his shower dressed in mismatched pajamas. Thomas the Tank Engine was on the bottom and GI Joe was on top. He asked me, "Is it OK if I wear it this way?" "Sure," I said. When his sisters saw him they weren't quite so OK with it. Caroline asked him, "What are you wearing?"

Andrew said, "Oh, these are my 7-2-hour-pajamas."

There you have it. Prepared at 4 years old.