An Apple A Day

I swear, every day I promise myself that I will write a blog post during Owen's nap and everyday the lure of reading jezebel.com or flipping through the celeb slide show on People or watching Gossip Girl online wins out. I know, it sounds like a hard life, but if you know how much I would NEVER have done those things prior to Owen's birth, you can appreciate what a grind it must be.

Anyway, here are a few pics and captions to share what has been happening in our world lately.

Owen's new favorite food is an apple. Not applesauce or apple chunks or a slice of apple. He wants to eat the entire apple. And over the course of an hour or so, he will - along with carpet fuzz and dust and whatever else he rolls it in.



Our very own Adam...

So there is a show on Discovery called "The Deadliest Catch" about deep sea fishing and many of the boats call our very own Ballard home. Since they are roughing it in the seas with crashing waves and thrashing rain, they need heavy duty rain gear to keep them warm and dry - as does our little Seattle romper, Owen. So, we got him his very own Grunden coveralls just like the Deadliest Catch guys. They make rides down the slide much slicker and faster.


This is a special dedication to my family who likes to remind me of mornings when I was a wee toddler and woke up with nothing but a scowl on my face and not a kind word for a one of them. Without speaking, I hauled my grumpy self and my blanket to the heat register under the kitchen counter and sat there, sucking my thumb, probably with a wad of gum stuck in my hair from falling asleep with it in my mouth the night before. Finally, the heat breathed some life into my bones and I found it somewhere within myself to demand a bowl of cereal.


Everyone loves a basket full of warm, fresh-scented laundry

A Day at the Farm

This past Saturday a friend told me about a few King County farms that were hosting Harvest Celebrations and inviting us city folk out to the fields for tractor pulls, corn mazes, and pumpkin picking. John and I picked a farm that boasted of goats for our dear boy and planned to meet up with our friends to celebrate in the harvest together. They, however, chose a different farm and in the spirit of good friends, we decided to follow their lead. But in a Laverne and Shirley (or maybe Lucille and Ethel) twist, they also changed their minds. So, we ended up at their farm and they went to ours. We should have followed our instincts, however, as we never even got out of the car at that crazy farm. The vibe we got was not of waving fields of corn or hillocks of pumpkins but some strange cult that would no doubt entrap us all and make us churn butter and brush dingy sheep wearing odd costumes.

After an epic meltdown (on my part, not Owen's) we walked along the Sammamish River and then found a third farm, The Long 47. We ate kettle korn, pet the pygmy goats, took Owen through the bean maze, and realized that we were definitely a family as this kind of event would never have appealed to us before Owen but was perfectly enjoyable for us now.