Monday, December 24, 2007
So that's it. I think they decided it was a parasite that maybe could be taken care of but we didn't do anything about it in my dream. Maybe tonight I'll be able to go through radiation or something.
Merry Christmas to all,
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Kansas City metropolitan area came through this week's ice storms relatively unscathed. The temperature never dropped to a sufficiently cold level to freeze the rain that fell onto the streets, though we did manage to get a crystaline sheen over our lawns and trees.
One of our next door neighbor's trees split down the middle and fell mostly into the street.
The really cool part is that a front end loader came by in the morning and moved a large portion of the branches into OUR yard. Maybe we can get Sam to take up whittling.
Still fits, Mom.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
The yuletide season seems to have struck Independence Missouri in a fury. One day you're sitting around enjoying autumn and then all of a sudden you're lying frozen in a ditch with your fingers turning black and none of your shopping done.
As you can tell, Lucy's rash is beginning to subside. Santa brought her an early treat of expensive, steroid creme and about 40,000 bibs which help protect her waddle from exessive moisture.
After we threw Sam up on the roof to secure the Christmas lights, she didn't want to come down, so I had to go up to retreive her.
As the cold sets in, we find ourselves seeking out indoor activities such as the play area at the Independence Mall. They have lots of things to play and climb on and for a bit of spare change, a child can experience his or her dream of driving a forklift.
We discovered a new method for setting up an artificial tree. We didn't install the branches on the backside. This lets us position the tree closer to the wall, saving space in our tiny living room, and it keeps us from having to put lights on the back where no one can see them. Make sure you anchor the tree to the wall with some duct tape, though, or it's libel to tip forward and crush your baby.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
When Becky and I got married, my parents bought us a bed. They got us a luxurious, pillow-top king-size bed which has ruined every other sleeping surface's chance of fulfilling our resting needs.
Over the last 3+ years, many wonderful things have happened on that mattress. The following videos illustrate two of them.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Ella and Baylee submerged in both their pseudo-angst and the lazy river.
Cooper, the future locker-room towel-snapper.
It took a skilled photographer to capture an image of Cassie Ralston without her finger up her nose.
Marc Varone is truly a good-looking man. It's not hard to imagine this scene in a beer commercial.
There was another picture that flaunted Becky's marvelous anatomy a little more, but I was vetoed.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sadly, two members of the Thorne Family were not able to attend, though they are included in the picture below.
The last picture shows the Lodge Employees who were approached for taking the Thorne Family photo. I don't know their names, but I bet one of them had a mother named Mabel.
Pictures of the aquatic activities are pending.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
It was this bad a few days ago.
Then it blossomed into this:
So now we're putting a steroid and a lotion on it, though I suspect that my sister might be right in her assertion that Lucy's rash contains a yeasty component.
I'm hoping that last picture will fall into the hands of Ty Pennington and he'll want to alleviate our suffering by building us a multimillion-dollar home with super hypo-allergenic filters and a LittleMermaid/Godzilla room for Sam, since that's what she's into this week.
After Sam raked all those leaves, we had her clean up the inside of the house. It's so annoying that it takes her so long to vaccuum. We could hardly hear our Wheel of Fortune.
I found this on YouTube. Sam really likes the end.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Becky's friend, Audrey (Sorensen) Lake came for a pleasant visit. The last time Audrey and Becky hung out on a regular basis Audrey was still in braces and Becky had just stepped on a rusty nail in Audrey's back yard. Look, they've both got their smiles back.
"Trot along my little pony
where it's rough and
where it's sippy..."
Lucy now fits into the Christmas outfit that Grandma Deanna made for Sam two years ago. There's nothing funny about this. Absolutely nothing.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Meticulous planning is the first step. Only a complete imbecile would try to put a quilt together without multiple drafts and 4-dimen-sional computer models. This particular quilt required the invention of three new geometric theorems: Parallel Isolinear Convergence, Fractal Polyhedral Cohesion, and the Ultimate Law of Twos.
Next, the Creator of the Quilt must choose the colors. Each color must have signifi-cance. In this case: green for the envy of my peers, yellow for putrescence, blue for Asian antiquity, and pink for sensuality.
Initial designs for the individual squares called for elaborate fabric kitty cats. This plan was forsaken when I came to the realization that I hate cats with every fiber of my being and to stitch their image into my daughter's quilt would only glorify that which I vehemently despise.
Each length of fabric must be painstaking-ly cut into even strips. You'll notice that purple was added to the spectrum. This color was added to symbolize the evil that began to creep slowly into my heart during this stage of production.
Separate squares are constructed from the strips of fabric. The preliminary blueprints called for somewhere between 16 and 47,000 individual squares. A mixture of baking soda, lye, and beaver musk was used to wash away the bloody stains which saturated the squares as the flesh of my fingers began to crumble under the strain.
Oh, the irony! After the squares are assembled you do not have a quilt, but merely another series of maddening fabric strips which must once again be wrestled and arranged and attached to one another. I began to hallucinate and imagine that my own skin was a patchwork-conglomeration of iguana hide, balsa wood, and chocolate ship cookie dough.
So close. So very very close. What began as an impas-sioned, spiritual beckoning to the alter of hearth and home now draws to an end with the bitter stench of domestic despair and the wrenching of carpal tendons. Will the horror never cease??
And here's Sam with her quilt. Looks nice, eh?