Adaptation is the key to survival. Stella, like all her proto-human peers, quickly melds into any given situation with a level of grace and casual aplomb that clearly must have skipped a generation. Here she is in the trailer park, installing some 10 ply lugs for winter. Who knew that a 15 month old could be so handy with a lug wrench?
Here's the latest incarnation of our sardine can. As dreary oregon weather begins to creep in, we are realizing that our frolicksome experiment with small-space living has been successful because the weather has been downright courteous. Recently, our late night bickering has been focused on moving further into the country, buying a bus, or renting a house. The summation of motorcycles, skateboards, dog poo, and a sketchy dude named randal has begun to erode the silver lining off of trailer park living. we'll see...
Stella has taken to toddling like slime on a slug. I swear we have three daughters now; every time I turn around she's 50 feet away from the last place I saw her. If anybody has any leads on a design for a baby magnet; email me immediately.
The bathroom key is the small hinge upon which our comfort swings in the trailer park. The bathrooms here are clean, airy, and well stocked with toilet paper, soap and towels. But woe be the full-bladdered midnight pilgrim who has forgotten his key. The double trip from trailer to lavatory is a punishment for the forgetful on these cool oregon nights.
Charming and persuasive conversationalist that I am, I'm still managing to get worn out on hearing what I think about things. We're really statring to feel the absence of our friends and family. If you're out there, look at your schedule and figure out when you're coming. There's no friends like old friends.
Adaptation is the key to survival. Stella, like all her proto-human peers, quickly melds into any given situation with a level of grace and casual aplomb that clearly must have skipped a generation. Here she is in the trailer park, installing some 10 ply lugs for winter. Who knew that a 15 month old could be so handy with a lug wrench?
Here's the latest incarnation of our sardine can. As dreary oregon weather begins to creep in, we are realizing that our frolicksome experiment with small-space living has been successful because the weather has been downright courteous. Recently, our late night bickering has been focused on moving further into the country, buying a bus, or renting a house. The summation of motorcycles, skateboards, dog poo, and a sketchy dude named randal has begun to erode the silver lining off of trailer park living. we'll see...
Stella has taken to toddling like slime on a slug. I swear we have three daughters now; every time I turn around she's 50 feet away from the last place I saw her. If anybody has any leads on a design for a baby magnet; email me immediately.
The bathroom key is the small hinge upon which our comfort swings in the trailer park. The bathrooms here are clean, airy, and well stocked with toilet paper, soap and towels. But woe be the full-bladdered midnight pilgrim who has forgotten his key. The double trip from trailer to lavatory is a punishment for the forgetful on these cool oregon nights. 
Charming and persuasive conversationalist that I am, I'm still managing to get worn out on hearing what I think about things. We're really statring to feel the absence of our friends and family. If you're out there, look at your schedule and figure out when you're coming. There's no friends like old friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment