scattered, smothered & covered

…whooo-eeey.  That was us last week, for sure.  So dive right in…

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We are getting new flooring, upstairs and down.  Yes, this is fantastic (and, to be honest, much needed–the carpet upstairs looks like it’s seen one too many fraternity parties), but man, is it a lot of work.  Anything breakable had to be moved (just to get you thinking: china cabinet contents, framed photographs, vases…) and all books had to be removed from their shelves.  Remember, I was once an English teacher; my children could never have enough books.  This is the stack I moved from Theo’s room:

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Please note the photo doesn’t include the books in the bathtub (or the closet).  I also had to move books from our room, Jack’s room and Tucker’s room.  While of course I realize a proper (public) library is more economical, I just can’t part with the real deal.  If you’ve ever been in a bookstore with me, you know I pick up various books and just smell them.  There is a difference:  hardbacks v. [gasp] paperbacks; certain presses v. others.  Oh, that’s good stuff, there.  Or as NutBrown Hare would say, “that’s some very good sniffing.”  Try it.  You’ll like it.  P.S. New refrigerators smell just as unique and just as heavenly.

So the flooring folks had me terrified about the hardwood delivery, but honestly, it’s not that bad–other than the smell.  The wood has to acclimate for no one knows how long–the equation the flooring dudes use to figure out if the wood is acclimated is about as complex as that used to determine when Easter is each year.  So we’re just going to take their word on it; they are Croatian, after all (true story: Russ is thrilled they are fellow countrymen of his; the floorers were unsure why I wasn’t more excited about the Mother Country until I reminded them I married into it).

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As if all this moving stuff and packing and whatnot weren’t crazy enough, a sassy little bird decided to build her nest in a bin in our garage.  We are experienced in bird funerals (a blue jay built in her nest in Jack’s fort two years in a row and some of her babies fledged into the fort instead of out of it), so we were hoping to prevent a repeat performance.  Luckily, this bird had not yet laid eggs in the nest.  Truth be told, girlfriend is either uber-messy or just in the starting stages of her nest; it was just a huge wad of straw, paper and trash stuffed in the bin.

So Russ, ever-efficient, sent me out to move it.

That’s when Momma-Bird went Momma-Bear and shot into our house.  Because there’s not enough going on in there so far, right?

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Crafty and quick, she immediately realized that until that Man-Dude left for work, she was in grave danger; thus, she zipped up to the chandelier in our 2-story entry way.  And hung out there despite the stuffed animals, balled up pajamas and socks the boys threw at her.

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(But doesn’t that new paint look nice?)  Marist baseball camp carpool beckoned, so we left the back door and several windows wide open and air-conditioned Sandy Springs for nearly an hour.  When Theo and I returned home, we couldn’t find her.  Case closed–or so we hope.

On to Father’s Day.  I must admit that I usually fail miserably at providing for the dads in my life on Father’s Day, which is especially pitiful since I think Mother’s Day is the cat’s meow of a holiday.  This year, I did a bit better.  The boys gave Popster a selection of useless yet adorable gifts which he seemed to have enjoyed.  We also gave Russ his gifts last week, in case he needed to switch sizes before we headed out to the beach (we being of the ilk that do not want to witness their house being demolished).  Go figure:  the only wrapping paper we had was Christmas paper.  I flipped it over and let the boys decorate their gifts as they saw fit…

First up, a warm and fuzzy Mario-themed package from Jack:

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Yes:  Cannons, they’re a blast.

Tuck’s theme:  a smash-up showcasing his genuine religious bent with some Mario to save face with the big bro:

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Then sweet Theo B. just did some “red dots, Daddy! Lots of red dots!”

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And it just gets better.  Today, Tucker caught (another) frog.  Not a big story, but the fact that he was compelled to introduce “Jumpy” to his “real” frogs,  Tree and Swimmer–who got to ride to the beach in Russ’s car after we forgot them– was pretty funny.

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Yep, a frog in the kitchen.  Not so bad, but a frog on the counter?  (I do realize that there are already 2 other frogs on the counter, but they are enclosed in a container so that doesn’t really count, right?)

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We’d expect nothing less from this huge-hearted, genuinely spiritual, mega-athletic and creative little fellow who requested to fall asleep tonight to the the song “You Know Better Than I” on repeat (from Aunt Dana’s gift Joseph, King of Dreams):

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Happy Father’s Day!!!

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