31 May 2008

At Least Ticks Don't Fly

Yesterday, my daughter and I spent some time at a local pond during an end-of-school-year picnic. We just sat in the grass, watching the birds, and soaking up the sun. It was another PERFECT day in Maine.

We know about ticks and we’re very careful at this time of the year. We won’t go near tall grass, cat tails, or spend unnecessary time under trees. But this grass was short and flat.

Still, there was a point where two little girls out in a rowboat lost their oars and we had to wade through tall grass and wildflowers to get to the other side of the pond and help them. I won’t go into all that – the little girls were saved and the only casualties were some jeans and shoes that got covered in pond mud.

Not long after that, we headed home, but first I had a couple of stops to make.

As I grabbed a few things at Rite Aid, I was walking down the candy aisle (yes, I admit it) and I felt something crawling on my arm. Yeah, you guessed it – it was a tick. One of the biggest ticks I’ve ever seen.

I had one of those freak-out reactions, and without thinking clearly (or at all) I frantically slapped away the tick. It went flying across the floor of Rite Aid, and then I couldn’t find it.

I didn’t want to just leave a huge, evil, live tick crawling maliciously around our local Rite Aid, but what was I to do? Besides, I had to get out of there and check to see if there were any MORE ticks on me or my daughter – or in the car. Eww – freaks me out just talking about it.

We raced home and went into our respective bathrooms to, you know, disrobe and make sure there were no more ticks anywhere on us or our clothing. My daughter quickly jumped into the shower, and I would have, but there was still yard work to do here at the house. After shaking out my clothes and my hair, all of which came out tick-free, I went back outside.

I might add here that we have NEVER found a tick in our yard or on one of our dogs – or on one of us for that matter. The only times we’ve acquired ticks has been when we walk through the local woods to the pond, or go elsewhere. Our yard is blissfully (knock on wood) tick-free.

I might add that right now, a whole day later, I’m itching from head to toe, just writing this.

Ok, so after a few hours of yard work, and then a pizza dinner, I finally got around to taking a shower. And guess what. Yes. There was a tick on my back. I have no idea if it had been in my hair, in my clothes, or what, but understand that THERE HAD BEEN A TICK ON ME FOR AT LEAST FIVE HOURS.

I don’t remember how many times I washed my hair. I only found the one tick, and I drowned it in the shower and then flushed it down the toilet, but I figured there had to be more.

In spite of all the creepy crawliness, I can’t seem to get this song out of my head:



Today I’m doing laundry and cleaning the house. If there are more ticks, I will find the little buggers.

This is war, people.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

29 May 2008

Gas Price Perspective

On Tuesday, our son arrived back in Maine from visiting Southern California. If you’ve been in Maine over the last couple of days, then you know what Southern California weather is like. Lots of blue sky, little or no clouds, low humidity and abundant sunshine.

Ironically, I spoke with my dad, who lives in SoCal, and he told me how CHILLY it had been there lately… you know, only in the mid 60s during the day, and in the 50s at night. I shared with him how incredibly WARM it had been here lately… in the mid 60s during the day and in the 40s at night.

It’s all in one’s perspective, I guess.

So, as we were driving back home from the airport with my son and all his California sunshine in tow, he commented about how low the gas prices are here in Maine. This was such an odd thing to hear, as we’ve been agonizing while watching the prices climb closer and closer to the $4.00 mark. Apparently, gas in San Diego is $4.19/gallon. Ouch.

My son also showed me this great website that gives the lowest gas price in the area on any given day – for anywhere in the country. Just type in your zip code and voila, or scroll down and choose another state. Here is the link:

Maine Gas Price Locator

Even if it’s only a few cents per gallon, every little bit helps.

Have a good day, friends.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

26 May 2008

Memorial Day and More...

In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been scarce.

It all started with losing my voice. Somehow, if I can’t talk in real life, I find it hard to have my voice HERE. Well, not really, but that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

In spite of the voice vacation, life has gone on as usual here in Maine, as it usually does. I did miss one party and one track meet (where our younger daughter WON the 800 meter run – go figure). I took two days off the yard work (one because of rain, actually, and one from the voice) and then I just couldn’t stand it, and I went back out to haul more branches and stack more logs. I mean, it’s what I live for.

Not that I need to be in a hurry to do this, because there are always more branches and even more logs to be dealt with. Add to that the fact that my husband took down about five more trees over the weekend. It might have been more – I’ve lost count. All I know is that the sun is beginning to shine down in the woods behind our house, where there used to be only shade.

Today, in honor of Memorial Day, we decided to go to the Brunswick/Topsham parade. In the past, when we’ve gone to this parade, we’ve gotten there early, staked out a spot on the Maine Street sidewalk, and we often see people we know. (By the way, yes, Maine Street in Brunswick is spelled like the state name). After the parade, there is a ceremony on the Brunswick Mall honoring veterans. We always loved it, the kids loved it, and a good time was had by all.

But this year, a change seems to be in the air. One of our kids is in southern California this week, visiting grandparents. Another decided to stay the night at a friend’s house, last minute. The other opted to sleep in. So hubby and I went to the parade alone. It was a first for us, and very unsettling. But only for about five minutes.

When we got to the parade, we parked in our special secret spot that is close to the route, but easy to get in and out of (and no, I’m not revealing it here) and then we got something to drink at the Bohemian Coffee House. We strolled down the side walk and found that we’d arrived a bit late because all the good spots were already taken. Since we didn’t have children with us who had to have a good spot to view the parade, we just kept walking.

Suddenly we found ourselves at the Broadway Delicatessen, and we found that we weren’t able to keep walking. We looked at each other, both feeling a little guilty and not even really knowing why, but without another word, we went inside, found a table by the window and ordered breakfast.

At the risk of blowing our newfound PERFECT PARADE SPOT, let me tell you that we had the best seats on Maine Street – and an amazing breakfast, to boot.

After the parade, to add to the decadence, we walked to the local 7-11 to get something else to drink (no, 7-11 isn’t usually a place I associate with the word “decadence” but I discovered that at the fountain soda machine, I could get a diet coke and add either cherry, vanilla, or lemon flavoring).

Life just doesn’t get any better than that.

After that, we came home and did what we do every day. I won’t write it again because you’re sick of hearing it and I’m sick of writing it. But it had to do with trees…

One last funny story to relate…

At the height (or depth, as the case my be) of my voice loss, I was down to a whisper, at best. One day at dinner, my daughter said the blessing before the meal and she prayed to God that I would feel better; but then she qualified it and told God that he didn’t need to be in a hurry to give me my voice back. Yes, this is the same daughter who kept asking me to repeat my whispers the whole time my voice was gone.

I know God has a sense of humor because my mother used to warn me that I would have a child like this. I, too, look forward to the day that my lovely daughter has children of her own. MY prayer is that I’ll be there to enjoy the payback.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

22 May 2008

Pollen - 1, Me - 0

On Saturday, we had the tree taken down.

On Sunday, we planted new perennials.

On Monday, we hauled branches to the dump (more times than I can count), planted more perennials, and filled our window boxes and hanging pots with annuals.

On Tuesday, we hauled more branches and stacked firewood that last week, was a tall tree.

On Wednesday, we finished hauling branches, made headway on the firewood, and moved all the huge logs off the lawn.

Today, Thursday, the sore throat I've been ignoring all week won out and my voice is completely gone. Completely and utterly.

I always find it funny, when I'm whispering to others, that they whisper back, even though they still have their voices. Actually, it's kind of nice.

My 14-year-old daughter thinks its funny. She keeps making wise cracks about my new-found lovely singing voice or she'll keep saying, "What did you say?" and then laugh hysterically.

Maybe she'll catch what I have, That would be only fair.

Until then, the pollen has won and I'm drinking more hot tea than should ever be allowed. I also have an excuse to give orders and have others do all my work for me. That is, if they can hear me whisper...

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

20 May 2008

Black Flies, Revisited

A couple of days ago, we had lunch on our back porch in the sun. Yes, the bugs are here, but we are still light deprived here in Maine, so we put on the bug spray and do our thing.

The thing is, I put on the bug spray while I was wearing a sweatshirt. As I warmed up, I ditched the sweatshirt on a lawn chair and soaked up the sun while wearing a tank top (which I only do in my BACK yard, by the way).

Black flies are not only evil and sneaky, they are also smart. And they have special talents. I read this years ago, and now I'm unable to find verification, but here's what I've heard about black flies... before they bite us, they inject a small amount of anesthesia into our skin. That way, they can feast on us, and unlike their evil cousin, the mosquito, they won't be detected and swatted or squashed.

I was on the porch for only about 10 minutes without my sweatshirt, but that's all it took. After going inside, I reached up to rub my shoulder and found that it was wet. With blood.

Lovely.

In fact, I had blood all over my shoulder and - yes - under my arm. Three bites in all. The little bugger took three bites out of my skin. Chunks, actually. And yes, one is an armpit bite.

Didn't I tell you they're evil?

Now, the bites have begun to itch and each have swelled to the size of a dime. But I'm optimistic, because they should be gone in a couple of weeks or so.

Yeah.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

17 May 2008

Timberrrrrrrrrrrr....

We grow a vegetable garden each year. It's nothing special, and rarely anything does well other than tomatoes. Somehow, we have mastered the art of growing tomatoes, but I've heard that that's not so hard to do, so we can't even really be excited about it.

But we are anyway.

When we first moved into our home, there was already a neat little garden right smack in the middle of the back yard. We soon learned that it never should have been placed there because it was right over the leach field (which ultimately had to be replaced - perhaps due to that evil garden). I will add, however, that the garden performed spectacularly while leaching off the leach field, but that's a whole 'nuther story.

When we had the leach field replaced, it took up every square inch of lawn behind our house. Beyond the lawn are lovely woods, but woods are not the best place for growing vegetables, which require lots of sunshine.

We cleared away a small area to the side of the lawn for our beloved veggies to grow, but we found that with all the woods around, they were still only getting about 5 hours of sun each day - at most. And the main culprit for sun-blockage was a ginormous oak tree that towered over the yard.

For several years now, my husband has tried to cut limbs off this 50-foot oak. But each time he does, the limbs higher up just seem to fill in the open spots - laughing at us as they do so. The tree has become a huge source of frustration for us as it provides no shade whatsoever for the house, the garage, or even the parts of the yard or patio that we DO want shaded. Rather, the only thing it shades is the one thing we do NOT want shaded. The garden.

Oh, and I might add that this tree dumps huge amounts of big brown leaves on our yard each fall. Not that there aren't other trees which do the same,... but you know, this one is so much BIGGER.

And lastly, we need firewood as much as we need this tree gone. It costs slightly less to have the tree taken down than it does to order nearly this much firewood. You do the math.

Have I convinced you yet that it needs to come down?

No?

Sorry - too late.

Today we did the dirty deed and our beautiful, majestic, mighty oak tree is now lying in pieces across our back lawn. And let me just say right here and now that I am grieving this lovely tree. Not because I wanted it or even liked it, but because it was an old, very healthy tree. It had been here a long, long time and when we took it down, it was still very much alive and thriving.

As I walked among the carnage this afternoon, my husband peeled off a piece of bark and showed me how much water was underneath, just to throw salt in my wounds. Ouch.

Here is the tree just as they got started this morning -





Here, many of the lower limbs have already been taken down -



It almost seems wrong to post this photo. This one makes me so sad -



A mighty oak has fallen (and please ignore the icky grass)-



Our neighbor loaned us his trailer so we can cart away all the branches and leaves. As you can see from the picture above, we will be doing this until the end of time -



Some perspective of just how big this giant was.



I know that when and if we ever do dispose of all the smaller branches and cut the rest into much needed firewood, we and our vegetable garden will be happy and smiling. I also know that we have approximately 8 zillion more trees on our property that serve us nicely in spite of losing this one.

So why do I feel so guilty?

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

15 May 2008

Red Sky at Morning...

Mainers take warning.



Ok, not really. It's just a saying, and just a sunrise.

I thought the red sky was an indication of the rain that was forecasted for later today. But now I read that rain is no longer in the forecast. Not today, anyway.

I guess the red sky wasn't informed of this new development.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

14 May 2008

Wordless Wednesday

Visiting the past - and the museum...



Products of homeschooling, dontcha know.

Wordless Wednesday


Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

13 May 2008

Springtime Trees, Joys, and Challenges

We spotted this tree this morning on the way to a doctor's appointment. Amazing.



In other news, our son is home from college for the summer, which brings both joys and challenges.

Here is one of the joys -



One of the challenges is a photo I refuse to take. It is the amount of stuff that has taken residence in our garage; stuff that miraculously fit into a tiny dorm room. This, of course, does not take into account all his stuff in our basement, nor the stuff already in his room.

He is going to California to visit grandparents next week. The deal is that he will have the garage either emptied and unpacked or packed away neatly (in a CORNER) before he goes west.

Last night at 11:00, we had a conversation that went like this:

Me: I want you up by 9:00 tomorrow to start working on the stuff in the garage.

Him: But Mom, I just finished finals and I had such a stressful week last week. I haven't had a day to sleep in for weeks. Please let me sleep in.

Me: Excuse me, but 9:00 is sleeping in, in my book.

Him: How about 9:30?

Me: No. 9:00.

Him: But Mom, I'm totally and completely exhausted.

Me: Then go to bed now.

Him: But I'm not tired NOW.

This is a true story.

I might add here that he obviously did not take LOGIC at that university this year.

OH, and in case you aren't sure, that conversation example was one of the CHALLENGES.

But he does mow the lawn. Yes, there is that. Oh joy.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

11 May 2008

Mother's Day - Past and Present

I hope all the moms out there had a wonderful Mother's day.

We didn't have an especially note-worthy day, but any day with family wins a gold star in my book. Here are a few photos from the past (not past Mother's Days, but just past days with my littles - when they WERE little.)

Here's my first, when he was about a year old. Can you tell it was the 80s?



This was five years later when our first daughter was born - thankfully we were into the 90s by now.



A mere year later (one year and three weeks, to be exact), our second daughter was born.


By the way, that don't-ever-touch-me-again look on my face is directed at my husband.

And for your viewing pleasure, here are some pics of the same children (in the same order) in which they are smiling. I found very few pictures of them smiling while I was holding them. Rather than take it personally, I choose to believe it's because they couldn't SEE me. Yeah, that's it. (And yeah, I know the newborn wouldn't be smiling anyway, but trust me I couldn't find any of her smiling with me, either).

Kid #1 -



Kid #2 -



Kid #3 -



Here they all are with hair and smiles (note that once again, I am not in the photo. I think it was because I was taking this photo, that they were smiling so happily).



And here we are today. No more 80s big hair, no more pudgy baby faces and hands, no more gazing into my eyes as if I know everything. Boy, did that last one ever change.

From left to right, we have kid #2, me, kid #1 and kid #3.



Happy Mother's Day.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

10 May 2008

Estes Lobster House

Earlier this week we had the treat of a FREE dinner at Estes Lobster House in Harpswell. You may think we rated the free dinner because we happen to have the same name as this beloved restaurant, but you would be wrong. It was a dinner for my husband’s business associates; but it is more fun to think they throw amazing lobster dinners our way because they love the fact that we share their name.

*Sigh*

Ok, back to reality.

And, back to the story.

First of all, the drive from Brunswick to Harpswell is charming all by itself. Harpswell lies on the end of one of Maine’s many peninsulas jutting out into the Atlantic. The town is totally old New England and as charming as they come. The coastline is rocky and rugged. The restaurant sits almost at the very end of the peninsula with views of the water on both sides.

Our party was on the back patio, facing the sun sinking down over the small inlet to our west. It was a tad chilly, so they had a tent set up with those cool outdoor heaters strategically placed. While we could have had anything on the menu, we ordered our all-time favorite meal – lobster rolls and lobster stew.

I might add here that I don’t do lobsters in the shell. Totally freaks me out to pick meat out of the carcass of the animal. Almost as if the feathers were still on the chicken when we start eating it. I have no problem with other people eating lobster in that way, but for me, I just don’t want to see where it comes from. I prefer my lobster cut up and prepared before I dig in.

That is why I will never truly be a Mainer. That, and the fact that neither I nor my parents or grandparents were born here.

But I digress.

We ate our lobster treats (and let’s face it, they ARE more treat than meal) relishing every last bite while watching the sun go down. It really doesn’t get much better than that. In fact, many of the people in our party were from the Washington, D.C. area. They understandably were completely taken with the whole experience and I think they had a hard time wrapping their brains around the fact that we live here full time. It’s like a kid living at Disney World – it just seems too good to be true.

The happiest place on earth? Well, perhaps no such place exists. But Maine is certainly one of the prettiest. Even on an overcast day such as this one.

Here are a few pics from Estes Lobster House...

The Restaurant



View to the East



View to the South



Our MaƮtre D'



Cool map showing where visitors come from...



My hubby ate lobster and then a giant lobster fought back. What can you do?




Have a good weekend, friends!

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

09 May 2008

What the Septic Guy told us

Like you really want to know.

The last time the septic tank guy came to pump out our tank was four years ago. It is recommended that we have our tank pumped out every three years, but the last time he did it, it was late in the season, and last summer, we just didn’t get around to it. Plus, the last time he came, we paid him to do an inspection of our entire system, and it failed – with flying colors, of course.

$10,000 later, we had a whole new leach field, etc.

So when he came back here earlier this week, he told me the tank was pretty full (yuck, like I really want to visualize that) and that we’d been using too much toilet paper.

How, exactly, does one respond to such a charge? “Oh, sorry, but cleanliness is a virtue?”

He told me that we need to scale down the toilet paper use and that we really ought to stick to the three-year pump-out schedule. I assured him that we’d do both (what else was I going to say?) and then he went on to tell me that a lot of people say that, but then they go on using the same amount of toilet paper.

I have to say, it felt very odd, standing there in my yard with the stench of sewage all around, discussing our personal toilet paper use with a man I only meet for a couple of hours every three (or four) years.

He then said that if we DO continue to use the exorbitant amounts of toilet paper (that we are very clearly using), we might want to consider having the tank pumped every two years – at least until the kids are grown and gone.

Sheesh. I nodded, agreed with everything he said, and ushered him back down our driveway as quickly as I could.

I ran back inside to escape the stench and told everyone (in great detail) to cut down on the toilet paper usage. The kids nodded in wide-eyed agreement, wanting to change the subject. Hey, I told them, if I can listen to it from a man I hardly know, you can hear it from me.

They nodded again and found reasons to leave the room.

I ask you, how exactly does one monitor the toilet paper usage of teenagers? As if one would even WANT to do that.

Ok, that’s it, I’m finished talking about it… for at least another three (or four) years.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

08 May 2008

Black Fly Season

… has officially come to our house.

Yesterday I received my first black fly bite of the season – on my ear.

Sort of like getting the first gift of Christmas (even read Polar Express?) only different.

Time to break out the lovely scent of choice used by fashionable women all over the state of Maine…

Bug Spray.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

07 May 2008

Wordless Wednesday

Walking through Maine woods with faithful pooch.

Yester-year



Present Day



Wordless Wednesday


Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

05 May 2008

Trouble in Paradise

This afternoon, I had about 45 minutes of free time after the school work was done, and before the septic tank guy was scheduled to pump out our tank. Being that it was another gorgeous sunny day, I did what I always do on warm, dry days before the black flies arrive (or after they’re gone)… I parked myself in a lawn chair on our patio and soaked up a few rays.

My youngest daughter joined me. We rushed out, aimed our chairs at the sun and sat back to enjoy. About that time, we heard screaming coming from the yard of one of the homes fairly nearby. Not panic-stricken screaming or baby-type screaming. This was screaming of the domestic variety. Lots of “You’re such a blankety-blank-blank and I hate you,” with responses such as “Well, all you do is sit on your blankety-blank-blank all day and I’m blanking tired of it.” The male person was sort of, kind of trying to keep his voice down, but the female was yelling at the top of her lungs, unconcerned that she could be heard for miles around.

Normally the area in which we live is a quiet, peaceful place, only interrupted every so often by dogs barking, chainsaws buzzing, cars rolling by, or kids squealing and laughing in play. Even more common are the sounds of woodpeckers, squirrels, and blue-jays making their forest noises. Not that domestic issues never happen; I mean, c’mon, this is real life. But most people keep their problems behind the closed doors of their homes.

My daughter and I sort of huddled down in our lawn chairs, just wishing it would end. She plugged in her ipod and I buried my nose in a book. After all, public as the argument sounded, it was a private moment and it was none of our business. I actually felt bad for my neighbors. I won't say whether I know them well, because I want their identities to remain private, but I will say I think they’d be horrified if they knew someone heard them. Who wouldn't? Well, the guy would have been – I’m not so sure about the lady. Boy, was she loud!

Finally the yelling died down to a dull roar, and before I knew it, I heard chuckling and kind words. Heck, for all I know, they yell at each other like that all the time.

Not long after, the septic guy arrived and our back yard became uninhabitable for the rest of the day. I’m sure the smell forced our neighbors back inside as well. In fact, for all I know, they are right now writing a blog about the hideous odors emitted by the four years of septic waste courtesy of our family. Can’t say I blame them. Besides, there’s no telling what they’ve heard from our house over the years. I wouldn’t even want to know.

In the end, when we meet our neighbors again on the street or at the local supermarket, we’ll all pretend we didn’t hear or smell a thing.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

03 May 2008

Our Weekend So Far

Yesterday began with a beautiful sunny morning. This photo is important because this is a Northeast facing window, and the sun does not touch it during the winter months:



It was a good day to take a stroll and see what's coming up around the yard:

Clematis



Stone Crop



And a good day to enjoy what was already there:

Lobster Trap



Bronco Fan Bird House



Later that evening, we threw burgers on the grill and decided to initiate our fire pit into the new spring season. (And yes, that's a Bronco sweatshirt I'm wearing. You know you're jealous.)



And what is a fire-pit initiation without s'mores? Some friends of ours make something they like to call "Redneck S'mores." My husband prefers to call them "Lazy Man's S'mores." Either way, we stole the idea and here it is. You only need these:



First you roast your marshmallows...



(BTW, the blonde is Leah - she told me I MUST use her name, so there she is. She is an honorary family member.) :)

Notice the bare feet on the kids. They got cold later (the temp was around 40) and they huddled in a bit closer to the fire. Notice the slippers in the next photo. Why they are not on someone's feet, I have no idea...



After roasting your marshmallow, rather than dealing with graham crackers AND messy hershey bars, you simply smoosh your marshmallow between two cookies and you're good to go...



They promise to bring smiles all around...



It was a lovely night. We went to sleep dreaming of the next day (today) which promised to be sunny and warm. We planned to cut down trees, do more yard work, visit our neighbor's yard sale, and just generally enjoy being outside.

BUT THEN...

This morning we awakened to cold, cloudy skies. By 9:00 a.m., it was raining. Our yard work was rained out, but we visited our neighbor's sale anyway. And just to help out, we bought a couple of things. You know, to be neighborly and all.

Here's what we got: a lovely buffet for only $40...



... and the best thing of all, a kerosene room heater for only $20!



I love bargains and I love being warm on a cold, rainy day. Today I got to have BOTH. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Have a good weekend, friends.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

02 May 2008

Still Chilly

This was the temperature at our house this morning, which is why we still can't plant anything for a few more weeks. It doesn't matter if the middle-of-the-day temps are in the 60s; if we plant our impatiens and geraniums now, not to mention our tomato plants, they'll all wither and die in the early morning hours when Jack Frost visits.

Case in point in this post by the nice folks over at The Maine Life.

My problem is that we had those really warm couple of weeks, and I got the garden all cleaned up and ready a few weeks earlier than usual. Now it seems that it's time to plant. But it isn't.

Argh - the waiting.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes

01 May 2008

Hot or Cold?

Yesterday my daughter and I took the dog for a walk on a path through the woods near our home. It was a beautiful day that came after all that rain. The temperature was hovering around 60 and the sun was shining brightly, but there was a fairly stiff breeze.

It wasn’t quite a jacket day, but we were a bit shivery in sweatshirts and jeans. In fact, my daughter complained the entire time that she was FREEZING. We went a mile or so and then turned around to come back because she was visibly shivering and was clearly miserable.

Conversely, my other daughter wore a t-shirt and gym shorts to track practice yesterday. I told her to bring a sweatshirt, but she insisted she’d be warm enough. In fact, after practice, she went to a windy playground to shoot baskets until dinnertime. When I went to pick her up, even I was cold, but she was fine.

This all got me to wondering… my freezing daughter was born on the sunny California coast. The gym-shorts-wearing daughter was born in Rhode Island during a snow storm. My son, who is always cold, was born in Virginia.

Is there a connection? Probably not, but I like to find a reason for everything, and this is all I can come up with.

Either that, or they're all just weird. And I do know the reason for that - they all take after their dad.

Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes