casey up to bat

wanna know where we've been all summer?

at home.

plate.


watching baseball.

The Youngest Carrotstick has been playing:

which more often than not ended up being: which has been just a little frustrating for the Youngest Carrotstick. It has forced him to plead:

(more than once)

because he likes to hit and he wants to hit it far.

(great action shot, right?)

As the Youngest Carrotstick discovered, the amazing thing about 1st grade baseball is:

And the Youngest Carrotstick really likes to run.

He also really likes to throw baseballs.

In just two more years, he could actually be the one pitching. He's spent the last three months practicing pitching with this kid, at all of the Middle Carrotstick's baseball games. He can't wait to really pitch in a game.
But I sure can.

(I really don't like this picture. I think he looks old. Even with an orange Gatorade mustache. He looks kind of like some of the Oldest Carrotsticks punk friends. I don't want my sweet little baby boy to turn into a little punk.

Pretty soon he'll be shaving.)

Machine pitch isn't that bad, son. Please don't grow up.

:(

handy ma'am

fyi: I survived girls camp, in case you were worried. And I even had fun! (Kind of a miracle, considering I only went to Girls Camp twice when I was a Young Women.)

I have also survived the return home. All the camp stuff is put away, and the laundry is done. I even survived giving a last minute talk in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday.

But then: Monday came, PB&J had to go out of town, and the dishwasher decided to break. Three strikes. Monday should be out. Boo.

Faced with the options of hand washing a dishwasher full of dirty dishes (eewww) and replacing yet another dishwasher (our third in 15 years), I decided to follow the example of my friends Betsy Case and Janice Cooks-Bailey (who have both singlehandedly saved their washing machines from the brink of death multiple times) and try to fix it myself.

I consulted the wisdom of the internets and found no real answer. I poured hot water and vinegar in it and let it sit overnight. Nothing. No go. The motor runs, but no water fills it. So I tried again. "Oh great internets," I pled, "please give me the solution to my problem." I looked at a highly technical dishwasher web page with lots of incomprehensible terms and links to further diagnostics. I read something about floats. I thought of the float in the toilet. I have never seen a black plastic ball in the dishwasher. I didn't know where a float-thing in a dishwasher was located, but there is this weird little upside down cup-like part at the front of the dishwasher. I wiggled it, debated about undoing the bolt that held it down, and then decided to pour water over it. A lot of water.

Holding my breath, expecting the worst, I turned on the dishwasher, and behold! It worked!!! And I rejoiced. And I praised the internets and Al Gore. (Not really on the Al Gore part.)

Then I called PB&J.

Me: (all nonchalant) "Hey, guess what I just did."

Him: "What?"

Me: "I fixed the dishwasher."

Him: "Huh?"

Me: "Yah, I fixed it. I pulled the whole thing apart, piece by piece, laid it all out on the kitchen floor, and then single handedly studied each piece, cleaned it, sprayed it all with WD-40, and put it back together again. Even the tricky little e-lec-tronic controller part. And it then . . . it worked"

Him: (laughing) "ok, what really happened?"

Me: (a little deflated) "I poured water over some part inside the dishwasher and it came unstuck and worked."

Him: (still laughing) "Well, I guess I owe you dinner out for saving the dishwasher."

Darn right. And it'll be a nice one too, because dishwashers can be expensive.

Isn't it nice to have a handy ma'am around the house?

I'm very proud of myself, in case you can't tell.

let freedom rain

we are camping up on the mountain for the 4th of July.

it keeps raining. and raining. and raining some more

so we are doing a whole lot of sitting around inside. looking outside. wishing it would stop raining.

hope you are having a great independence day!

in the genes

The Middle Carrotstick has also felt the urge to climb up tall tree trunks freakishly fast. He and PB&J did the high ropes course together today while Mom (me) watched from below -- a nervous wreck. I get that from my mom. Thanks, Mom.

spider monkey

all the Oldest Carrotstick's late night trips down mountain trails must have unwittingly led the her into a Twilight encounter. Today she went all Edw@rd Cu!!en on us, and though she protested mightily, she successfully completed the high ropes course! She scampered up that hanging tree trunk with no problem -- and no freaky looking computer animated enhancements ala the first Twilight movie.

I am glad to report that no other vampire-like traits have yet been exhibited. Though I wonder if I should be afraid for my safety, because PB&J did the same yesterday afternoon. I'll be on the lookout for unusual bite marks on my neck. If tomorrow I report that I have taken leave of my senses and climbed the high ropes course myself, you'll know what happened.

age appropriate

This family camp has been very different for PB&J and I than it has in years past.

can you see what is missing from this picture?

look closely.

give up?

I'll tell you. there is no Oldest Carrotstick. this camp has been a dream come true for her. it's all about hanging out with new friends 14 hours a day. we see her only briefly at meals and when she needs to change clothes. last night was the best! she was hanging out with a group of Young Adults (15 to college-age) and they asked her what college she was going to. Frighteningly, she played right along with it and told them she was going to go to BYU or Utah State.

I think I need to pull out the "I'm only 13" sign.

we first came here when she was only 4 and still needed and wanted us.

I miss those days.

orange crush

I love me some orange fanta.

it is my drink of choice for one week, every other year when we take our kids on our biannual trip to aspen grove family camp.

wish you were here!

really!

partly cloudy with a chance of mud

Here are the results of the Middle Carrotsticks Wednesday night slide into the homebase mud hole.
I am currently considering reworking my investment portfolio to include Spray and Wash stock. it is a commodity for so many moms.

spies like us

if you are going to drive a scooter, it's best if you do it in style.

(I felt very double-oh-seven trying to covertly take this girl's picture with my phone without her thinking I was a crazy stalker person. You should try it! It's fun! Hey, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take an undercover picture, post it on your blog, then leave me a message in my comments and I'll check it out! I'll be the "M" to your James Bond! Just don't do it in a creepy bad illegal way. That's my disclaimer. I am not trying to encourage delinquency in any way, shape, or form.)

this is what my kitchen looks like right now. aren't you jealous? looks like the only thing cooking right now is my brain on lacquer fumes.

the sandlot/dirtpit?

I would personally like to thank the grounds keepers of our fair city's parks and recreation areas for importing such a lovely red dirt for the baseball fields. if they had been satisfied with the natural brown dirt indigeneous to our area, I would be missing out on so much fun trying to get the red dirt stains out of the Middle Carrotsticks white baseball pants.

why is sliding into base such a thrill for 10 year-old boys????

soccer: a how-to

You thought I was kidding when I threatened to post 1 million soccer pictures. I wasn't.

For your enlightenment, here is a little tutorial on how to play soccer, presented by the Carrotsticks.

In the manner of all great books, it has few words and lots of pictures. (Be glad I didn't take the technical writing class when I went to college. Then it would be even harder to understand -- because I would have to write it in english, translate it into chinese, and once everything comprehensible was thoroughly twisted, change it back into the unintelligible dialect commonly known as "Reference Manual Modified ChineEnglish.")

(which she did. seriously. her nickname is now "bruiser".)

And, finally, in Reference Manual Modified ChineEnglish:

Many sad goodbyes as happy we are you visited us came.