zoralee's month back in montana

- getting reacquainted with the chickens -

just after this photo, Z broke into a high squeal of fear;

enclosed spaces aren't very good for reintroductions

but she loves the eggs!

a cool speckled one

This red rocking chair belonged to my Grandpa Gene when he was a baby.

Z is the fourth generation to play with it. How special is that?!

Zoralee LOVES Grandma Rena. She's saying "Gah-ma" with ever-increasing clarity,

and she'll nearly always choose her over me (HER OWN MOTHER). It's a bit ridiculous.

Here, despite Grandma's protests, Z knows she's got milk-making goods somewhere in there.

Zoralee is a phone talker. Boy, howdy. A phone yeller is more like it, just like Grandpa Larry. Some imaginary conversation partner somewhere in the cosmos is getting an earful. Z talks on whatever cell or cordless phones she runs across, as well as remote controls and calculators. Perfectly reasonable. Smallish, plastic squares with buttons. But she also talks on toys, balls, dishes. Recently she held a pair of pants to her ear and said "Ah-lah," her hello. Is she imaginative or confused? How can I blame her for not knowing which household items are embedded with electronics when she found her birthday card from Nana the other day and opened it up to hear Nana's voice? It's one of those recordable cards. I tell you what - kids these days are going to grow up thinking absolutely anything is possible, anything is believable. Let's hope they put that no boundaries mindset to good use solving world puzzlers like poverty, disease, and convincing people to drive in the right lane unless they're passing. I mean it.

double-fisting

trying to figure out who is this clean shaven guy in a suitstory time with Crazy Uncle LukePeek-a-bowlI'm not sure how frogs end up in our bath pics - it's not planned that way.fingers