It's my new passion...

I know.
It's hard to keep up.

Work with me.

My friend (and board certified small animal internist) Shannon came to visit this spring....brought her kids and parents to the ranch....and a bag of Bequet caramels. http://bequetconfections.com/products.html

Oh. My. Goodness.

I always thought I was a chocolate girl...dark, dark chocolate. But now I know that I'm really a caramel girl at heart. Not the hard old Brachs cellophane wrapped square caramels that you have to unwrap for caramel apples. 

REAL caramel.
Soft, creamy, melty golden caramel. 
With sea salt.
Or chipotle pepper.
Or butterscotch flavored.

And I love caramel stroopwafels....the Dutch caramel cookie waffles made in Billings, Montana. http://www.caramelcookiewaffles.com/  Set one of those babies on top of your coffee mug to melt the caramel between the cookies and be ready to swoon.  I'm entirely serious. 

Now, I'm still quite fond of dark chocolate, mind you.  But I'd walk right past it if there was a Bequet caramel a mile in the distance....

 

You be the judge....

...if you dare!

There's a verse in the Bible that says, "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

I think it was referring to 4-H judges at county fairs.

(And I'm pretty sure the judge gets judged, just so you know. I felt like I was walking around the fairgrounds all weekend with a bullseye on my back...)

This year, I had the dubious privilege of being the 4-H Foods and Photography judge at our little county fair.  Since I love both food AND photography, I jumped at the opportunity when asked! I really should've talked to the last judge before committing, but now I know he's probably undergoing diabetes testing as a result of judging the foods last year.  Either that, or in the 4-H Witness Protection Program, hiding from disgruntled parents.

Doesn't it sound like the perfect gig? Tasting the best foods the kids can prepare and talking with them; looking at photos and discussing aperature value and composition.  And you all know how I like to visit.  Perfect.

When I showed up, there really weren't a lot of entries in, yet.  I looked at the list of exhibitors and counted about 14 kids, looked at the modest row of foods and thought, "YES! This is going to be FUN."

There was only one photography project in, at that point. Looking good; looking real good.

Now, I want to tell you a little something about 4-H foods.  Every third plate will have banana bread or brownies on it. I'm not joking.  About every fifth plate will have chocolate chip cookies. And the reason for these entries is that they are almost bulletproof.  Just about anyone can turn out a pan of brownies that are worthy of fair entry...even if you burn the edges, you can cut some out of the center and have a decent showing. 

The other thing is that I'm a firm believer that you can't judge a food without tasting it and feeling the texture in your mouth.  Perhaps some people can, but I fail to see how you can gauge quality by appearance and smell, and the density when you cut into it.  You could have a really great looking pie, but if you forgot the sugar, the only way to know that is by tasting it. Right?

I was a thorough judge.

I was a sick judge.

It turns out that most kids don't bring in their food entries until the very last minute, so it can be uber-fresh. In fact, some of the entries were still warm. The longer I judged, the longer the row of brownies and banana bread got! I wasn't making a dent. Quite to the contrary; I was creating a void on the counter for them to fill with twice the entries! By noon, the counter was groaning with food and so was I.  I was relieved to wander to the cookshack for my complimentary sandwich and chips....I was dying for protein!

I thought the afternoon was going to be a bit easier, having only about 5 kids to judge.

No. It was not.

They save the best for last.

Three little over-achievers each entered something like 12 food items, EACH!

I tried to recruit Mike G. as a taster for me, but apparently he's been suckered into that gig before and declined, not so politely.  (Later that afternoon, I caught him visiting with the judge for industrial arts and smirking in my direction...)(That's just mean.)

I want to tell you all something, though: there are a lot of good cooks in the younger generation, and I'm happy about that.  These kids can really knock out the baked goods and when questioned, most of them know a great deal about the process.  I had a superlative taste of apple pie, a bite of coffee cake that made me roll my eyes with joy and (this is my personal purple ribbon choice) homemade chocolate covered cherries that were the perfection of confection. 

The photography was really my favorite part.

There were only three projects entered, each with about 10-12 photos.  I worry that I was too hard on them, asking technical questions and what they would change to get different effects or exposures. These three girls really had some great photos, but the one that blew me away was the girl who played with special effects and had a little old point and shoot camera that she couldn't adjust any of the values with.  She had to work with her eyes and the time of day, the shadows and the angles, without the ability to adjust settings on her camera.  We talked a long while, and I walked away hoping she'd continue with the hobby. Her mom caught me in the grocery store yesterday afternoon and said the girl was all excited about her photography, again, and is thinking she may need a better camera! That's cool.

My clerk, Debbie was invaluable and when we got done with the whole blessed event, she told the extension secretary that we'd do it again next year. Bless her efficient little heart.  (I will take any tasting volunteers who offer.....Mike.) (No, not YOU, Mike G.....the other Mike...Mike W.  The one who won't stand in the corner and snicker at me in my time of need.)(Well, he might, but not during a 4-H foods crisis.)

A Good Cry

This is peculiar to women, I think; needing to have a good cry to clean out their hearts and minds.  When I've mentioned having a good cry to a man...ANY man....they are completely baffled as to how "crying" and "good" go together at all.  Crying is bad! Beer is good! Crying over your beer is NOT good, but it makes for a pretty decent country song.

My Gramps used to tell me about his sisters loving terribly tragic songs. He said they'd beg for a heart wrenching song, then weep as it was being sung! It amused him, but he didn't seem to understand WHY they'd ever want to cry like that. Must be a woman thing.... 

This morning, I had a good cry. 

Have you seen the movie, "Becoming Jane"?

It's a story of impossible love. Two spirited, intelligent, passionate people who are devoted to their families fall in love and struggle with doing the right thing.  I KNOW at the beginning that they will absolutely not be allowed to be together, happily ever after. I KNOW this! Everyone knows this.  And I want them to do the right thing, which is to remain loyal to the many people who depend on and love them.  But there's a part of me that really sort of wishes they could have followed through on the plan to run away and be together. I ache for them, for the price they'd pay on either side of that decision. What really put me over the edge was that Mr. LaFroy never stopped loving Jane. Ever. At the end of the story, they have a chance meeting and he introduces his oldest daughter to her....the daughter he named Jane.

It's just the ticket for producing a good cry.

 Now that I have my heart and head sufficiently purged of all the junk that has been cluttering them up for a couple months, I can start on school board business. If I cry over that, however, it won't be good. And I won't have a beer.

*For the men who read this blog (whether you admit it or not), I'll try not to make it a habit of writing about mushy feelings.  It's football season, you know, and there will be some grid-iron posts forthcoming...
    

Pictures of the harvest

We're done cutting grain for 2010!

I was lax in getting pictures of harvest this year, so when they got down to the last 60 acres or so, I grabbed the kids and ran to the field with the camera.

I thought I'd better see the Willow Creek winter wheat through to the end, so devoted readers like the Kaufmans and Millers could see how it all came out.

The child DOES have appropriate clothes. 

But really, is there anywhere a beach coverup DOESN'T work?

He hauled that water bottle everywhere.  The actual liquid in it, I think, was rather chunky and tinted by the end of the day....

These sorts of clouds always make farmers uneasy during harvest time....

Here's the field that they were cutting on.

I think it's so interesting to see the standing grain next to the stubble next to the straw next to the fallow.

Here comes Vern in the combine....

....and the Farmer in the tractor with the wagon.

Ready to dump some grain on the cart.

Isn't that wheat pretty?

Okay, Mr. Kaufman....it only made about 35 bushel to the acre. Not our finest crop ever, but at least we got it cut. All the hail missed us this year, and for that we were grateful.

(See the letters on the wagon? I think it's funny that those are the initials of our first names! And the portable panels we use are made by Vern's Manufacturing. They swear it's not intentional, but it's still chucklish...)

I don't know if you can see this very well, but Vern is looking to see if any grandkids want to take a ride in the combine.

Don't have to ask her twice!

The little man will take a ride, too.

But people with short legs sometimes need help through the stubble.

Waiting for the combine to return, I couldn't take my eyes off the clouds.

Living in the Big Sky state is such richness.

Here they come! You can see the little orange dress, pressed against the glass.

And the little man, supervising the grain dump.

Now they get to bale up all the straw. 

Starting that today, and they may be running two balers. 

Almost done!

My cousin, Beth, took a chance on an amateur photographer to take pictures of her girls this last Sunday. (The price was right...)

Here are some of the better images; Montana kids in their native environment!

(Beth likes pictures of people walking away, so that's why so many of the back of heads...)

*I should have been more clear, here...I was the amateur photographer!

Toothless....cont.

So....

We left you with the plan to give the tooth fairy a note and some money, since she didn't get a tooth. That was a pretty good plan and the tooth fairy was relieved that the drama was over.

It was NEARLY over.

My daughter, the child with elaborate plans and endless imagination, decided that perhaps if she made her little doll house a very hospitable place, the tooth fairy may just decide to stay and live with her. Forever. No amount of talking could dissuade her. 

Well, fine.  As long as you leave the little note and tooth case on the shelf by your bed so she knows what's going on....

The tooth fairy nearly forgot to check. Thankfully, in the dark of morning, the tooth fairy bumbled quietly into the child's bedroom, felt around on the shelf and there was.....NOTHING! Nothing there! Not a note, not a box, not a dead bug....NOTHING!

Drats.

So the tooth fairy went for a run. 

Maggie came out about 6 o'clock, looking like a thundercloud.
"Good morning, Sunshine!", I said brightly.
More glares.
"Everything alright?"
"I don't know why the tooth fairy didn't come last night!"

Well....um.....

"Did you leave your little box and note where you always do?" (Please say no...please....)
"No. I put it someplace special."
"Perhaps the toothfairy came and couldn't find it because you moved it..."
"She didn't come! I put it back after you came in my room this morning, and waited and waited for her!"

Drats.

We still have something like 28 teeth left to go!

Toothless...again.

Before I start this whole post, you need to know I lost the "Mother of the Year" nomination LONG before I lost the child at the fair.  But I'm okay with that.  So don't try to reassure me or be all nice about it, okay? If I can laugh at it, so can you...

This last May, Maggie came home with an envelope from her teacher.  She explained to me that she'd lost a tooth at school, but this time she didn't swallow it! How thrilling! I put the little envelope up on the shelf above the sink, so Angus wouldn't get it and so that I wouldn't forget about it. 

Today (YES. TODAY. As in "Tuesday,August 10, 2010...three full months later.) we finally got the tooth out and it was Tooth Fairy City! Maggie had a little tiny case in which to put it, and we wrote the most miniscule note possible to explain. I then sent her off to her room to put it up high on a shelf above her dresser, so Angus wouldn't get it and so that I wouldn't forget about it. (You see a pattern, here.)

Not TWO minutes later, I hear water running in the bathroom and think nothing of it. 
Then Maggie comes out, saying, "I have to tell you something funny, Mama."

She explains, "I was washing the tooth, because it had a little bit of blood on it and I dropped it. But that's okay, because I'll just leave money for the Tooth Fairy."

I know this was true, because she smelled strongly of antibacterial soap, which is sort of novel if I'm not standing over her putting it in her hands. 

So....

The child has lost two baby teeth, so far.
The first one she swallowed, with a mouthful of apple.
The second one, after being resurrected and dusted off three months later, is down the drain and gone.

Third time's the charm, right?

We'll keep you posted....

Softies

There's a little ice cream stand in Billings, on the corner of 24th and Broadwater, that I want to be buried under...so I never have to leave it again. (This is true. Ask Kellie Yost.)

Here's an image from Montana's Trailhead website, of opening day in the spring.

It's just a mom and pop stand, nothing grand or fancy, and the only seating is a couple benches and the curb, or you can lean against the wall.  I don't believe it has changed anything except its prices, in 30 years.  The marquis sign is original (or it was when I was last there), put up in the 1950s or '60s, and from what I can see inside, through the big ordering window, the ice cream machines look like retro rigs, too. 

Softies is a happening spot.  The best time to go is at dusk, when the pavement is still smoking, but the air is getting soft and cool.  You'll have to (or, in my case, want to) park a block or two away, so you can walk to the stand.  When you get there, the lights will be on in the stand, glowing out on the people in the line, waiting to order.  And there will be a line.  But it's a laid back line....families with big and little kids, grandpas and grandmas, teenagers in cool clumps, young couples on a date, friends who've just gone for a fitness walk and are now needing a reward. College kids work there and they are not all that chatty (unless there's a cutie pie ordering; then you see a spark...) but they're polite and patient, even when a family orders wildly different things, then changes their mind three times. They seldom get an order wrong, but even if they did, the atmosphere is so relaxed that the customer would likely just try something new and not worry about it.

And here's why Softies is a happening spot: it boasts the most incredible soft ice cream in four states. Maybe the world, but I've not had the opportunity to put that to the test.  AND you can get your cone dipped in one or two of something like 36 flavors.  After exhaustive research, I decided my favorite cone was chocolate ice cream, dipped in coconut covering.....it's like a creamy, cold German chocolate cake.  (Pardon me, while I wipe the keyboard off...)

The other thing (among many) that they make to perfection, is what they call a "Cow".  The Cow is built like this: big old blop of soft ice cream in the bottom of a cup, big squirt of any flavor slush you can think of,  repeat. Get a long spoon, couple napkins and settle in for an eye-rolling good time.

This particular treat holds a special place in my heart because on very rare occasions at the arena, Ty would send Kellie and I to get 8-10 Cows for the crew.  NOTHING was better on a boiling hot July night than to get sent away from packing panels and wrapping steers heads for ice cream.  We'd turn on a good song, roll the windows down and take the long way to get the herd of Cows for the crew. Once we had them, we had to get back as fast as we could and distribute them....and everyone loved us, even though Ty bought them.

In the summer, on nights like tonight when the sun prolongs setting like a sweetheart stalling on a goodbye, I feel like jumping in the car and heading to Billings with the Eagles playing loud, picking up Kellie and wandering to Softies for a dipped cone and a good long walk and leisurely visit. Want to join me? 

Little Dry Roping Club

This evening, the kids and I went to the last roping of the summer at the arena in beautiful downtown Cohagen.  There's a local roping club that meets there on Tuesdays and Thursdays...not EVERY Tuesday and MOST Thursdays...in the summer months.  They have round-robin ropings and kids events like goat tying, pole bending and barrel racing.

I took the Farmer's little camera and not my own Canon, which I regret, because there were hundreds of great shots that I missed; little details and wonderful roping pictures that my brain captured, but the little camera could not. 

It was a beautiful evening, in the 70's and calm, and the light was perfect. I've been missing the roping arena like crazy this summer for some reason and this was such a treat!

Here are the Green Bo-eez, and they are not going to be pleased with this photo, but that's the breaks. Maggie has called them "The Bo-eez" for just ever, and she's in love with T.J. (He's SO strong...batting of eyes, incline of head...) Poor kid. But she has good taste; you have to give her that. 

The Green Bo-eez, again.  Kendall is swinging his rope, T.J. is in the blue cap.  They are great kids and I'm trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Kendall is a Senior this year....he was 5 when the Farmer and I got married.

I love this shot, of the horse trailer, the dually pickup and saddle on the ground. 

Waiting their turn...

This is the way to watch a team roping! (See, Pop-Pops Bill? Angus has his cowboy hat! And a Red Raiders shirt, too....guns up!)

This is where I wish I'd had a faster camera with the big lens!

Kendall is going to be mortified at this photo, too. Sorry, man!

So blurry, but you can see that the heeler caught both heels and the flagger has already called the time, by the way the header is looking back and the slack in his rope.

Here are the poles for the pole bending...an event in which they don't actually physically bend the poles, but weave through them riding their horse.  I like the red-white-blue of the poles with the ropers in the distance.

There were two goats here, for the goat tying.  When they weren't "in competition", they were tied near the picnic table, where every kid in a quarter mile radius tried to throw them.  Here you see one of the little Murnion boys showing Maggie how to wrap the legs.  She took notes.

These are family evenings and there were moms, tiny babies, toddlers, preschoolers, high schoolers, dads, grandparents....it's fun to see everyone! This is taken next to the concession booth, that greyish building you see. The crow's nest is in the distance, where the timers and announcer hang out.

You are going to see some dirty, filthy, sticky, kids in the next few pictures...

The little girl in the light colored tank top, here is holding a hot dog that has been dropped a couple times in the dust. Which, really, is no worse treatment than it got in her dusty little hand. (And I hesitate to call her little top "white", because I'm not sure it ever will be again.)

Also, there's the frazzled goat...

This was one of the cleaner kids. Still, you see the remnants of popsicle on her face, the utter coating of dust.... 

Don't you just want to hug her? I just went ahead and did.

Building dust castles...

If they wanted the dust to stick together, they'd find an abandoned pop can with a little liquid left and pour it on top.  It worked.  It sure stuck. To THEM!

Here's Anne, "the Chef" as one of the kids called her.  The cool thing about this concession booth, besides the pretty cook: you can open a tab at the beginning of the roping season and pay for it at the end. Or, like we did, hand her a check and tell her to just fill it in at the end of the evening and she takes care of the books, bless her heart! So the kids go up and get food and we don't have to keep trying to come up with change. 

You could have sloppy joes, hot dogs, ham sandwiches, ice tea, pop, Icee-Pops...

it's a great way to feed the kids supper.

It was a wonderful evening!

Next time, I'm taking the big camera.  Watch out, Green Bo-eez!

In which we go to the fair, bite a new friend and lose the boy on the fairway...

*This is an inordinately long post with no pictures.  Pour a cold drink, kick off your shoes and prepare to yawn.....

That pretty much sums up the highlights of our trip to the Lewistown Fair. 

It seemed like SUCH a good idea, at the time. 
Growing up, my family (Mom's side) went to the Lewistown Fair every year and it was the best time! Riding rides with the cousins, eating cotton candy, collapsing in the shade and starting all over.  Our parents would go to the rodeo and when we were little, we went too.  As we got into those "cool" teen years, we declined the rodeo and went on the rides and giggled about the cute boys/girls. (Just to clarify, I was NEVER cool.  But I was in that age group.)

My Aunt Arlene and Uncle Dick and their kids/grandkids/grandkids' friends still go every year and I wanted to take my kids so they could have that great time with thier cousins!

We were a day early, to start with.  The cousins didn't truly hit town until Saturday morning, when we were leaving. Ah, well, next year....

And the Farmer had to stay home, so I was playing zone defense instead of man-to-man.

It was HOT...incredibly hot for Lewistown, a little mountain town that usually has temps of around 78-80 degrees during the day.  We had Pay-One-Price tickets that let us ride all day, so we were determined to ride that afternoon AND that night.  Nearly got heatstroke, going from sticky ride to sticky ride...

We went to our friends' house for supper and that was a treat! Mike and Lisa Waterman graciously invited us to have fajitas and let the kids jump on the trampoline with the sprinkler. (This is where it starts getting interesting....)

They have three kids; Laura (10 yrs), Daniel (8 yrs) and Meredith (3 months).  Laura was away at camp, so Maggie and Angus converged on Daniel, his toys and the trampoline.  Bless his heart, he was very nice (or scared) and let them play with everything.  The trampoline was a big hit....so much so, that Maggie gave him a big kiss. (Maybe two. Who knows? We only witnessed the one.)

After supper, the kids were playing on the tramp again, this time without the sprinkler, and we were inside doing dishes and visiting, when Daniel came in and announced with a trembling lip that Maggie had bit him.

I went out and of course she got a big spanking, had to apologize and then go sit in the car. Alone. Forever.  (I was ready to leave her there forever, let me tell you...) We decided it was perhaps time to load up both families and go to the fair to ride more rides, since it had cooled off.

And that was a good time! Even when a cloud burst came through; we waited it out and went back for more. Until the kids decided to go through the fun house over and over and over and over....
Lisa said she'd watch them make the rounds if Mike and I wanted to go on the Zipper.

*A note here, about the Zipper.  It was the Big Ride, when I was a kid.  The ultimate, scary, test-your-tummy, double-dog-dare-ya ride at the fair.  You had officially become one of the big kids, when you could ride the Zipper. Bonus points if you could ride it back-to-back. I hadn't ridden on the Zipper since I was 18, and I desperately wanted to know if I was still one of the big kids.

So there we were, two old fogies, standing in line with all the big kids, waiting to get on the Zipper and chatting, when I saw Lisa Waterman coming toward us, Maggie crying, making questioning gestures and saying, "Did Angus come over here? We can't find him."

Is this every mother's nightmare? Well, it's certainly mine.  The fairway was FILLED with people and not all of them looked like good old country people from Grass Range who came to show their steers and eat a little corn.

We scoured that place. Mike and Lisa's friends looked.  The carnival people looked.  And finally the security people found him on the carousel, not 10 steps from the fun house.  I had looked there several times and I know Mike and Lisa had, too.  He was lost for about 30 minutes, but it seemed like longer, and I'm a couple years older, now.

Anyway, we were all frazzled, but the older kids went on a couple more rides and then we said goodbye to our friends and headed to the motel.

Saturday morning, we went to McDonalds for breakfast...a big treat for us....and met Sue Fitzgerald's cousin's wife from North Carolina.  I'm not kidding.  No matter where you are from or who you are, we Montanans will find a connection with you.  Try it sometime.  You'll be shocked.

Then we went to the park, where Maggie took up with a little Hutterite girl who is now her new best friend, I guess.  The farmer's market was being held there and the Hutterites sell lots of really good produce.

AND (this is big) I got a text message. Yeah, I did. From my cousin Beth. (Really, I think she was trying to be mean, because she knows how technologically inept I am...) But get this: I actually worked around and successfully sent one BACK! You have no idea what a big thing this is in my world.  Well, some of you do.  If you've been reading the Chronicles for a while, you'll remember the time I texted myself.

Then, because I was exhausted and the kids were crabby and it was hinted at that we might be pulling bulls that afternoon, we drove home.

Next year, I'm putting a muzzle on Maggie, a homing device on Angus and coordinating my schedule a little better with the cousins.  But it was a fun trip, really, and our last big hoo-rah before harvest.  

Nothing will put a little motivation in your workout like buying a new swim suit.

Which is why I've avoided purchasing one for nearly 12 years.

The OTHER reason I've been avoiding the whole scene is cost....
Have you checked the price tag on these babies, lately?  For a one piece, try $95.00-$110.00.  Yes.  For TWO pieces, such as a tankini (we'll tackle that invention later in the post) you have to buy the top separate from the bottom. Brilliant marketing strategy that they wrap up in the message of "You as a consumer have more size choices, more customizability!"  We pay more.  Each piece will run you +$50.00.   

And there's considerably less fabric than there used to be.

You know, too, how well I like spending time in dressing rooms at the mall.  I'd rather go to the dentist, (I'm NOT joking!) than to try on swim suits. 


Finally, this year, after an encouraging email from a friend that said, "You might want to go over to Land's End and look at their swimming suits.  I hear there's a sale! Here's the link."  I decided it was time to get new bathing apparel. (To her defense, she knows I've been talking about this impending occasion for three years. And to her credit, she hasn't laughed at me in the suits I HAVE been wearing.  But it was time for an intervention, bless her heart.)

I'm in the tricky age group of "Not-a-20-something-anymore-but-not-ready-for-my-mom's-style" of suit.  Here's where the tankini comes in.  For the uninformed, a tankini is basically a tank top style, with a separate bottom.  It wants to grow up to be a bikini someday, but it has self-esteem issues.  Perfect. After two kids, I can embrace that type of thinking.

I also look at cover-ups. Which are floaty sorts of tops that cover you to your knees while you're wearing whatever swim suit you finally screw the courage up to put on. Some catalogs bill them as sort of sexy.  They are not.  They are about 3 yards of cotton gauze in a boxy shape.  After consideration (translation: check the price) I decide that if I'm going to buy a suit, darn it, I'm just going to have to be brave. And find a t-shirt.

I looked at every possible style, shape enhancing, color, cut, strap width, torso length, free shipping tankini available.  It took a month. (I'm serious. You can't rush these things.) I bookmarked. I compared. I exercised. And after all that agony, I finally closed my eyes and ordered one.

The suit came yesterday.

Deep breath...

And it fit just fine.
The problem is....all the body parts that AREN'T covered by Lycra/nylon/plastic boning. 

I think we should go back to this:

The Fwog Pond Party

*This is a photo intensive blog post.  But all the kids are exceptionally cute...that should make it worth your while.

We had Angus' birthday party at the Frog Pond in Miles City; a little pool that's about 2 feet deep in the center with a big ole frog to slide down.  It's perfect, because the kids can all splash and play to their heart's content and it's CLEAN. And then we eat cake at a pinic table, eliminating all the worry about spillage and stickiness.

The Frog, of which I was speaking...

Here's Maggie and her cousin Liv.  This is a rare shot, when no one was moving 60 mph.

I hope that's not drool....

Maggie's love....she told us when she was two that she's going to marry Ben someday and hasn't backed down. 

It's a great sized pool, very quiet yesterday. On hot days, there are enough kids in the place that you could walk across on their little backs and not ever touch the water....

Aaahhhh.  He had no intention of staying for the whole party, I think, but was pressed into service. Behind this smile is a man dying to go pick up his new contacts....and go diving.

B-Allie (that's a nickname for "Baby Allie", which she is not anymore, but we can't stop) giving her man loves.  He likes it and he doesn't. 

The girls are instructing Ben on a random game that makes sense only to little girls.  He wanted to play, but the rules were ambiguous and subject to change at their whim, so he was never really sure if he was doing it right or not.

Welcome to the world of women, sweetheart. Get used to it.

Sizzle! Angus promptly soaked his towel in the pool, so had to resort to warming up and drying off in the sun like a "wazy wizard". (Lazy lizard)

I love the little foot prints...

Squooshy balls that hold water.

They make a great SPLAT when you throw them at someone, and it's fun to suck the water out.

Yes, I tried to stop them, but it was pointless.

Dad, having a man to man talk with the boy. Probably about the girl games....

They came up with this pose all on their own.

B-Allie and Mags....they are such good friends.

Secrets!

The rare pictures of Angus and I....

Ready for cake!!!

They were smelling the cake.

I put coconut flavoring in the frosting and when we pulled the plastic wrap off, everyone leaned in. It smelled wonderful!

Black icing is a wretched medium to try to come up with. It took a whole vial of food color to get it that tone.  We all had grey teeth after eating it.

Singing the birthday song! There was a little breeze, so I was trying to keep the candles from blowing out.  That would've been a never-ending cycle of lighting.

The only time they were quiet.

It takes great concentration, to eat ice cream.

Maggie got some late presents along with Angus.

It's not really a party without blowie-outie thingies.

(What do you call those?)

The Farmer had very strict guidelines for this photo....above the chest, far enough away to reduce wrinkles and blemishes, close enough to see the smiles, good light....

He did alright!

LtoR: Traci Lee (Country Wife, Country Life blog), The Farmer's Wife and Jennifer (Farmer's Wife's sister)

It was a great day.