
(I know are we not all just jealous that I get to leave again.?)





I will be the first person to admit that I HATE snakes!!
So as I mow, my kids happily play with Snakey, loving him, putting him around their necks and using the cut grass to make him a nice home in the wagon.
When it is time for Maddie to go home we let her take "Snakey" to show what fun things you get to play with at our house. Her parents were less then thrilled.
Out there, somewhere in my vast yard, there is a snake - Snakey. I am sure that he does a very good job eating bugs. I am sure that he does have a purpose other than scaring me. I know that at some point I might have to resolve my issues with him, although I am sure that he is unaware of any issues between us. But for now I would be quite content to just have him venture into anothers yard and find a safe refuge there, but that is not the way of my life. Once plagued I know that I will be visited yet again by our snakey friend.
Anyone want a snake?



Have you ever noticed how much we rely on modern conveniences such as the stove, the washer and dryer and say the must have for every kitchen - the microwave?
the butter. Thinking that it would soften faster then waiting hours to achieve the same result I carelessly forgot about it and continued on my 6 loads of laundry. Hours later when I remembered that cookies were on my "TO DO" list, this is what I found. 

Anyone think that face looks slightly familiar, I know I have seen that face before but where oh where..........



The whole in the wall from the piano lid - long story, much frustration.
"Sweet Boy's" room done.
The best part is that sign finally in the yard!!
When we bought this house it was white on white. Not to say that I do not like white; white snow, white ice cream, white base boards but white house - NO! (those of you who know me, know that I live in a very colorful world). So the first order of business was to paint walls and bring some color into this blah house. But what to do with the fireplaces. Here is what I did. 