7 Quick Takes

It's been a busy week—I have a house full of company and the computer seems to be in constant use by someone or another. I normally get up before the rest of the household to blog, but I've got a certain early-riser staying with me who beats me to the family room each morning to check stocks and read the online paper. He's a former Marine who taught me about "Rise and Shine" and "O'Dark-Thirty," so I don't stand a chance of waking before he does.

That's my rambling way of saying, "I don't have a post today." Because I've only got about 10 minutes this morning to sit down and blog, I'm taking a page out of Conversion Diary's book. She reserves Fridays for "7 Quick Takes," a rapid jotting down of seven random thoughts without any worries about writing a coherent piece.

1. Susan Boyle. I can't believe how cynical I am, but the moment I watched this clip I figured the producers had set it up. Perhaps they are trying to recapture the lightening in a bottle that was Paul Potts. Now I don't necessarily think Miss Boyle was in on it—she seems to be an absolutely lovely, talented, authentic person who deserves every bit of adoration that she is receiving. But Simon Cowell and Piers Morgan? Big fakers.

2. I try to spare the two of you who read this blog by not writing about my fanaticism toward the TV show, Survivor. That said, I am now going to write like the fan that I am . . . I was pleased with the booting of Tyson last night. I think he was very smart and I dug the way he could deliver his hilariously sarcastic comments with such a straight face, but he was one mean dude toward Sierra. Viewers never saw her behaving in a more negative way than anyone else, but if she was as horrible as the rest of the players were saying to each other, then Tyson was a smart and powerful jerk picking on a dumb and powerless girl. Go JT and Stephen! Woot!

3. My oldest daughter is driving me cur—azy with a song/dance that she and her 5th grade friends are learning. They've compiled a various assortment of lyrics and motions from movie scenes as well as from their imaginations into a complicated routine, and my big girl practices it over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over. In the car. At the dining table. In my bathroom when I'm trying to brush my teeth. On the sidewalk as we're walking to the library. Any where, any time, my daughter will bust a move or belt out a song. Help me, Rhonda.

4. I keep seeing and hearing on an almost daily basis a quotation attributed to Margaret Thatcher. I've seen it in the paper and on blogs, received it in emails, and heard it on the radio and in conversations. "The problem with socialism is that eventually you run out of other people's money." If I didn't know better, I'd think that the economy is on a lot of Americans' minds.

5. Scribbit posted about making her own mozarella cheese. I love sliced fresh mozarella and fresh tomatoes. LOVE it.

6. I don't have a good view of Mt. Redoubt so I haven't been able to take any decent pictures, but saddlepotatoes went up in her husband's plane and got some fabulous shots of the volcano.

7. TGIF. I no longer work outside the home, but I still find myself feeling giddy at the thought of the weekend. So much potential. You can clean out the garage in a weekend. Or put in a garden. Or lay around and read a novel. Whatever your plans are for this weekend, have a great one!

Dinner last night: spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic bread, steamed carrots

Cold Morning

Technically, it is spring. The sun shines brightly . . . but its rays are without warmth. The grass is showing . . . but lawns stand brittle and brown. Trees wave gently in the morning breeze . . . but their limbs look thin and naked without leaves.

Shadows stretch out long.

Thin sheets of ice over mud puddles

break up like shards of glass.

Patches of alders stand useless,

with no leaves to offer shelter and

their choicest bark stripped away by hungry moose.

Tightly closed buds reach for the sun, though,

and soon the trees will recover.

Dinner last night: sour cream enchiladas, refried beans, sweet corn

These Boots are Made for Walkin'

Now that the twins are closing in on their third birthday, they are demanding to go outside every day. I am happy to oblige, as the destruction they wreak on the back yard is much less aggravating than their indoor messes. I've accomplished little in the way of housework this spring, but I'm enjoying my daily dose of fresh air . . . and watching the girls play is good for my soul. Late mornings, you can usually find us strolling down a dirt road.

God bless the person who invented rubber boots.

Sticks . . .

. . . and stones . . . 

. . . go nicely into people's newspaper boxes.

I've managed to thoroughly agitate these dogs . . .

My work here is done.

Let's head back home for lunch and a nap.

Dinner last night: chicken pot pie, tossed green salad