State of the Yard Address

I left via the west driveway this morning, and happened to glance in the side mirror. It stopped me dead in the Jeep's tracks. That waving grass in the forefront? Over two feet tall. The teensy white rectangle in the garage? A Suburban. On the left of this photo, you'll notice an old, louvered door standing against a tree, with what appears to be a ramp leading up to it... that's the tree fort, which is a safe three foot drop to the ground. The upside to all this grass is the yard doesn't appear to want for shrubbery this year. When we mow it (as in years past), it always seemed sort of bald. Now I keep looking for Mary and Laura to come scampering in from the mailbox.

This pic is very blurry, as I was trying not to wake Sir Slumber, but it's the latest addition to a growing collection of "where's Eli sleeping now?" photos that practically take themselves. He really seems rather comfortable here, though I spoiled it trying to get a 'not blurry' shot by falling over and muttering curses under my breath. Serves me right, as it's now 9:40 p.m., and guess who is quite refreshed from his nap? It's actually no bother, as I'm up finishing a knitting project. It's for a friend who is leaving on a trip, running out of time to knit, and apparently has knuckles of steel. I used to think I was a tight knitter. Her scarf on size 10 and a halfs? I'm knitting with a size seven to match her gauge. This probably explains why even size zero (2mm, I'm down with the metrics) needles feel ginormous to me now. Anyway, I need to start more laundry, since today I was forced to wear "the shirt of last resort", which was both humbling and comical. If I had any ego, it would have been crushed before I left the house this morning. Which leaves me with nothing else to wear... so, until tomorrow, try and stay outta trouble, huh?