Posts Tagged ‘photos’

Gathered my wits and ventured back to Market Basket today.  I’ve previously shared my opinions on my local Market Basket, so those familiar will know that it’s kind of a big deal excursion.  You really never quite know what you’ll run into at the ole’ MB.  Let’s just say it’s…well…it’s diverse.  And crazy.   I’m talking “Cabbage Patch Dolls-circa-1980 crazy” but if Cabbage Patch Dolls cost .18 cents instead of $82 dollars.   You get me?

So, there I am.  Bobbing and weaving and ducking my cart through traffic like Super Saver through the mud at Churchill Downs.   It’s every man (or Mommy) for himself, I tell you.   And, you never know when things might take a turn for the worse, resulting in a hair-pulling fight over the last “5 for $2” package of angel hair.

And, when you go to MB, you have to really go for it.  Load ’em up.  Because you know it’ll be a while before you recover from the experience, your memory finally lapses and you decided to go back again.   Today’s haul cost nearly as much as Big Brother’s public school kindergarten tuition (don’t get me started) so you can imagine my relief as I piled my final item into my cart and headed for the check-out.

Almost made it.   I can see my car from here.   I.  can.  do.  it.    I will make it.   Maybe with just a little help from…

Him.  Yes.  Him.

Jesus.  At my service.

Well, Hallelujah.

(And, yes, I took a picture.  He had no idea.  Really.   Or, actually…now that I think about it…hmmm.)

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We’re all happily home from a wonderful stretch of days visiting my parents in Vermont.   Beautiful weather, (mostly) happy kids, many fabulous outdoor activities, drinks with great friends and delicious meals with family.

Plus, my parents scored some cheap child labor in tending their fields.


But, seriously, how cute are they in those giant tractors?

Really, though, it was a great trip.  A perfect trip.

Well, almost perfect.

Except for a minor blip when I took the boys to a local playground and while I was running a 5K, doing a cart-wheel, rescuing my kids from a rabid dog, (oh, ok…) walking slowly along a wooden walkway, I went down like a ton of bricks.  Just fell.  For who knows what incredibly athletic reason.  (I may or may not have been reading something on my iPhone.  You can’t prove it.)  But anyway, down I went — arms splayed, legs askew, ankle rolled.  Ass over teakettle in my flip-flops.  Suddenly, on the grass looking up at a very worried Big Brother.

Mommy!  Are you ok?

Clearly, I am very graceful.   Swan-like, in fact.

Here, Mommy.   I picked up your phone.  It looks ok.

Mommy of the Year.   Yup, that’s me.   Go ahead and send my trophy to the Manchester Recreation Area c/o Grassy Area behind the tire swings.

So, anyway.   Here’s a shot of the right ankle Friday afternoon back at my parents house.  You know, shortly after I got up close and personal with the playground grass.

You like the pedicure?  You do.  Thanks.

And, here’s the stunning beauty that is my ankle (or lack thereof) today.  Sunday afternoon back at home.


It’s fine, of course.  I’m walking around on it without much trouble and, even though it’s hideous looking, it actually feels better than it did yesterday.

But, really.   Gross.

Yup, just another “sports injury” to add to my collection.

Note to self:  really must slow down.   Ha.

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There are certainly times, like last week, when I can do a lot of complaining and feel fully justified in doing so.  And then there are days like today.  Sunny, mid 50s and spring is in the air in this beautiful New England seaside town.  So, I spent the morning at the beach with my little family (even the dog).   Searching for Periwinkles.  Splashing along the shore line.  Hearing them call out in high-pitched voices as they discover something new.  Breathing in the ocean air and thinking…wow.  Thank you…

For curiosity
For carefree splashing
For tiny hands…and frog boots
For this foolish but good-hearted dog
For the way he loves them.   The way he loves us.

For all of it.  Thank you.

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Who’d you think I was talking to?

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35 degrees.   School vacation week.  About an hour before naps.

Go nuts, my little men.  Go nuts.

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