In a mere five days, we’ve gone from blechy-old-kitchen to blechy-old-kitchen-which-can-now-be-seen-from-the-street-through-the-living-room-window!   The walls came out, the header went in, and I’m only two muddings away from paint.

That dark behemoth cabinet is pulled out so that the Handy Guys can mud the shortened wall.  I’d drag it out to the curb, but we’re going to need it a while longer to stow stuff away while we slowly bring the kitchen into the 21st century.  Now I can continue the flooring and start designing an island.  Entertaining is about to get a lot more fun!

Kira and ELLIE!  (emphasis added because you have to say it LOUD!) hopped on the Utes for a cold-weather ride.  Herbie still likes it!

If you’d like to see some photos, here you go!   We’re not going to wait another 20 years before we go on our second honeymoon!

We were able to go meet her on my birthday at the horse farm where she was born.  She’s too small to come home with us just yet.  We have to wait until her ears grow disproportionate to her little noggin so that she actually looks like a corgi and not a little bear.

She’s definitely going to be a star.  She made CuteOverload yesterday along with her sister!  

We’ve had so much fun with Herbie that we decided to add just one more pet to the menagerie.  It’s going to require some chilly times training her through the winter, but I know she’ll be worth it.

Check this out.  This is Ruby’s sister.  Pretend you don’t know what she is.

Too cute, isn’t she?  Her markings make her look like a little bear or a red panda or something.  At times, she even looks like a ferret.  Both of these little girls will be “red” in color.  The silvery black is deceiving, and they will grow “through” it, so to speak.  Ruby is likely to be more petite than Herbie, as well.  Even though Herbie is not a particularly large guy, Ruby’s parents are much smaller than he is.

We’re looking forward to teaching her tricks like Herbie.  And we are hopeful that she’ll be as talkative as he is.

A few more pics on Flickr.

Me (without thinking first):  You look adorable.

Henry:  I wasn’t exactly aiming for adorable.

Me:  Ooooh!  I didn’t mean adorable, I meant BAD-ASS!

Henry: I should have settled for adorable.  I’ll bet William Kidd’s mother thought he was adorable, too.

Yes, we’ll have kid pictures later!

This morning, he was enthralled with the article concerning how business travelers are using smart phones instead of laptops.  With a dad who travels and uses both iPhone and MacBook, its relevance was obvious to him.

 Last week he came to me with the following bit of insight:  ”Mom, Matt Groening is rich, but he’s not a multi-billionaire like Rupert Murdock, right?  Because he owns the whole Fox network!”  

Um, I don’t know Matt Groening’s net worth, but I can’t argue with that logic.  He throws around comments like that in passing–like a periodic trivia brain dump.  And then he skips off and goes back to playing with his Star Wars characters or reading his collection of Peanuts comics.

The only thing that has changed since he used to sit with his mini decaf latte (yes, he has loved the taste of coffee since he was a baby!) and his Washington Post every morning is that now he can actually read!

Sure enough!  Apparently one of our Purdue professor neighbors a block away has two potbelly pigs who broke through his fence to get to the fallen apples on the other side.  Then they realized they were out and decided to go for an explore through the Hundred-Acre Neighborhood!

We followed them a bit to keep an eye out while another neighbor went to find the owners.  They were really stubborn (the pigs, not the owners) and were not about to go home without a very noisy fight.

I’m glad I didn’t take my brother up on his offer to give us one of his pigs!  Sorry, Jack!  We’ll stick to cats and dogs!

Emma and I spent a Saturday afternoon under the disco lights having a great time together.  It was her chosen reward for completing the first 100 lessons in her current Saxon math book.  

I was never much of a Roller Dome girl growing up, but I did spend a lot of time blading behind my “power stroller” when Kira and Mark were little.  (Yeah–sorry I almost dumped you that one time, Mark.  Luckily, the restraint system held you in and you hung there saying, “It’s okay!  I’m okay!” like a little trooper!)  

Anyway, I haven’t really bladed since living in Detroit.  I tried once in Maryland, but the hills were a way too scary for me.  And we were two and a half miles from pavement at Bug’s Bog, so that didn’t work.  I felt strong and my ankles did just fine yesterday, so maybe it’s time to give the blades a little tune-up and hit the trails here in town!

 Are you ready, Emma?!

(Dramatization Featuring Emma)

Political candidates themselves don’t seem to be too obnoxious.  They don’t usually have time (although one judicial candidate actually came back and sat on our deck with us one evening answering our questions!) and they’re not under pressure to sell anything or save my doomed soul.  It’s a great opportunity to ask them direct questions and I enjoy that a lot.  I could do without the pollsters and other politically active volunteers, though.

Last week I was in the process of dragging some very large branches out to the street when a political volunteer stopped by looking to ask the previous owner some questions.  I was busy, sweaty, dirty, and in no mood to talk to someone who hadn’t even come to talk to me in the first place!  So when the guy persisted, I actually had to scream “NO!” at him–and at that, he did a cartoon huff and actually turned on his heels and stomped off.  I was flabbergasted that somehow I was made to be the bad guy on my own front lawn!  

I was equally flabbergasted when a saleslady stopped by, put a sample product in my hand and then snatched it roughly back again when I told her she could not come in and take any of my precious time.  I actually chuckled at her and said, “You’ve GOT to be kidding, right?”  Her response, “You don’t get the gift if I don’t get to come in!”  

I really don’t want to hang a “No Solicitors” sign on my door.  Luckily, the main level of the house is 1/2 a story above street level, so I can usually get a good look at people as they approach the door and decide if I want to answer it or not.