Weekend Roundup

Today, Ferg and Finn went Fiddlehead huntin'...


Leave it to Jeni to notice a tree on the property that looks like a bum-crack. We'll never be able to look at that poor Maple the same way again...


Yesterday, the cousins cavorted on Grandma and Grandpa's ever-popular rock outcropping (pre and post-hailstorm). Oh hey, look... the neighbours across the street are ready to bolt at a moments notice! Maybe they got a house full of volunteer firefighters!?!?


On Friday, Effie had a day-long tea party:


...and, in pure Springtime tradition, made a couple snowy houses:

Winter in Springtime

I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather
I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather
I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather
I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather
I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather
I promise to listen to my wife and not blogboast about the weather

Library Blues

Our regional library system in its 6th week of lockout (don't call it a Strike!)... hardships for everyone including those of us used to borrowing 50-odd items per week. The pre-lockout stash is getting a bit stale:

Ech hem...

This is what happens when you brag about the weather:

Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet

On the day before Easter Sunday, on this year's egg hunt #10, we reached a mighty crescendo with a two hour, full-property, 118 egg extravaganza (59 each). Though we had several "counting" breaks today, at about the halfway mark Fergus became either sick of the whole thing or delusional as he started throwing his eggs (and basket) into the depths of the forest!?! After a while, sanity persevered and he soldiered on... brave thing!

We wore stylish (and unique) easter bonnets:


Some were more stylish than others:


And we took many breaks to count (pics are from hunts number 9 & 10)...




The Easter Bunny has this thing down pat by now (almost):
Number of eggs accounted for on hunt #10: all 118
Number of eggs shared with the Easter Bun: zero

By the way, that's "Pimp Daddy Easter Bun" to you:

Summer in Winter

That's a picture of our front covered stoop/veranda/porchy thing. Not much changes all that regularly here. I have no idea what is at the bottom of that brown bucket and that brush-like object on the ground is a boot scraper that gets wholly ignored (we prefer to come in from the muck, take a few turns around the house and then fling them off our feet in the direction of a white wall). And then there's that long handled thing supporting that black-coloured plastic scoop. It has leaned in that exact same position since I thought it would be a good idea to bring it up the hill from the woodshed back in November. Yes, that's right, while the east continues to shovel themselves ragged, we have had zilcho amounts of snow ALL YEAR. Well, we did actually have a light, inconsequential dusting one day - had to call in sick.

Now that it is officially Spring, I think it's safe for me to return the gravel shovel/ large animal pooper-scooper back to its den.

(Creaky) Blades of Glory

Thanks to the Preboys, and the charitable contributions of #12 on the local team, we got the opportunity to take in our first familial hockey game tonight as the NHL Oldtimers swung into town. Though I had to explain to Fergus that not every hockey game features oversized pucks, pies to the face and other Globetrotter'esque antics, he did note that he enjoyed hockey. He also noted that next time he should bring his Nintendo!?!

In my efforts to get a picture of NHL stalwart Gaston Gingras, him from that team who won all those Stanley Cups in the 80's got in the way...

Laying down the (shredded) Gauntlet

Attention Hayden, Scotty, Chloe, Qacei, MJ, the Traaseths, the Fullers, and any teens and pre-teens who I may have missed including that heped-up 7 year-old wanna-be rocker with the hair back there in North Carolina…

There’s a new kid in town… and he’s a wielding a ferocious axe:


The family had me nearly pee my pants when I returned home to find they had gotten me the mucho coveted, extremely hard to find Guitar Hero III. I was not, however, anticipating that they all would find it equally appealing, thereby restricting significantly my (much needed) practice time:






Although beyond fun, Guitar Hero presents me with a few challenges: 1) all my life I have played air guitar the other way around: with my left hand strumming. How, exactly, am I supposed to cope? My noodling prowess will be severely hampered; 2) it may take me a while to unlock all the Echo and the Bunnymen songs which I’m sure I will excel at and know are hiding within the Guitar Hero system labyrinth somewhere; and, 3) any second now the stereo system is bound to implode from having to endure Foghat ad nauseam.

Here’s a short clip featuring Eff’s self-styled rocker pose (“the flamingo”) and the Goose stage diving and auditioning his hair for a part in the band:

Happy St. Paddy's

Early adopter Mary got the ball rolling on this so we borrowed Conor (Gothimus Prime)...

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Hummingbird Season

The Salmonberry blossoms are out. They pretty much scream at us: “Buy Large Quantities of Sugar… Now”! The Salmonberries stop short of calling us procrastinating idiots.

Mud Bud

Effie was on the prowl for mud yesterday. This should not have been a problem around here - if our floors are anything to go by - but she appeared set on locating a particular type of mud. The “shores” of the creek were not goopy enough and the bog where the skunk cabbage was growing had a mud to leaf ratio much too full of the latter! Alas, after great adventures and having been joined by the Fergus, the right consistency was found. Turns out she had painting in mind (she knows what’s she’s talking about).

Painting Class :: Oil on Canvas Mud on Log:

Dressing up, Non-Frolf and Cookin'

This is the "I'm not sure what to title this" kinda dressin-up:


George and Sam taught Tiki to ("don't dare call it Frolf") disc golf. It's a complicated sporting activity. Their teachings consisted of "throw the circular object into the chain thingy over there":



Ferg is a champion lemon juicer. And he can peel a mean garlic. Lemon-garlic anyone?

Talking with the Fergus

The other night, just prior to sleep...

Fergus: "I like your shirt."
Daddy: "Thanks. I like yours."
Fergus: "I like all of you."
Daddy: "Aaaw! I like all of you too."
Fergus: "I don't like your skin or your glasses or your insides though."
:pause:
Fergus: "I like your bones."
Daddy: "Thanks."
Fergus: "I like your ring. That's a nice ring."
Daddy: "Thank you. That's my wedding ring from when I married Mommy."
Fergus: "That's where they put you in a hole."
:pause:
Daddy: "Married... not buried."
Fergus: "Did you get a trophy for getting married?"
Daddy: "Um, no."
Fergus: "Some people get trophies when they get weded."
(note: I'm guessing I should have said "yes" to that last one!)

Bloomers

It's March! And that means (at least) two things here: 1) time to start/continue gloating to the rest of the country that stuff is blooming, and 2) Easter egg huntin' season!!!

So far we've had two hunts. One was a spring-training warm-up that included 11 cool kiddos and the other was the more coventional two-person practice run ("the next one is yours and then the one after that is mine"). As there are currently four eggs lost in the woods, a lot of practice is still required.

Easter is a bigtime holiday for us:



I went outside with the camera intending to capture some "buds to make everyone jealous by". Instead of buds and blooms, I found some panties growing in a tree!?!