DO THINGS WELL, LIKE KATE, WHO IS GOOD AT BEING GOOD...AND HUNGRY

This is Kate, my hungry four-year-old granddaughter. She's the one who somersaulted onto the cat and catapulted (ha!) her off the sofa the other day.





We tended Kate today and it's always entertaining to see how soon she is going to be hungry and all the things she is going to find in the cupboards to ask about. Here she is eating carrots in her tent we constructed in the family room.

Here's what she ate:

a banana

carrots

crackers

mac and cheese

a chocolate truffle

more carrots

Valentine conversation hearts

a cherry bagel

She was here a little more than three hours.

When Ruby--age 2--is here she puts everyone in the Children's Nativity set to bed, they all lie down. Kate put them all to bed, too. Even Baby Jesus got taken out of his real bed to make a bed on the cold hard ground. Poor baby Jesus.

This cabinet is one I had when I was a child. It now holds markers, paper and coloring books.

After Kate left I went outside to take a picture of the mountain but it's too hazy to get a decent one so I took a picture of my cheesy birdhouses. This is the one that started my collection--the one on the right.

Deverl--a real Mormon name--made this for us when he was our home teacher. You can tell who Deverl home taught because we all have one of his birdhouses. This one and the one you can see part of are the only ones that aren't falling apart.

I remember where I bought all the ones that are falling apart and, in some cases, I remember talking to the people who made them. One woman was so proud that she and her dad had built birdhouses together. The problem is, they stapled them, didn't even use nails. Every time her birdhouses fall apart in a new, creative way I see her face and make that noise in the back of my throat. As You can see, Deverl screwed his birdhouse together. It will still be standing after the mutants run amok.

I have told my children that one day the mutants will be marauding and I will watch from the front porch and tend the kiddies while they are off fighting the battles. My front porch will hold me and about four kids, if we snuggle. I must campaign for a bigger porch. Or less mutants. Or less me.

The rest of the cheesy birdhouses and the snow shovel, thrown in just because I forgot it was there.

This is my welcome angel. Her welcome sign now just says...well, nothing. So she's holding a sign up for all the world to see with no message. She is not representative of her owner. I always have an opinion, even if it's wrong.

And last of all, here is the big mouthed frog, hiding under the chair made of tree branches, that my children's-book-writer niece, Lezlie Evans gave me.

When she was a preteen, or in her early teenage years, she used to tell me the Big Mouthed Frog joke. I loved it. She was so dramatic. (She has more personality than should be allowed--she should have to share with someone who doesn't have enough.)

I loved her joke and made her tell it over and over. Last year, for my birthday--which is one day shy of five months away--get those presents ready--she brought me a big mouthed frog to remember her by. As if I could ever forget Lezlie.

I don't know that this post really has a purpose other than to say that if you are going to do something, do it as well as possible unless it's to be a non-lasting thing. Like dinner. You're going to eat it up and forget it tomorrow so if you make a mess of it, its no big deal. If you are going to build something like a house, even a bird house, it ought to be made well.

Although, make enough lousy dinners and one of two things will happen. You will get sick and die of malnutrition or some horrible disease attributed to your food choices or you will get taken out to dinner.

Well now.