Photo Story Friday: Dumb & Dumber

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Welcome all you PhotoStory Friday bloggy peeps!

Thanks so much for stopping by!

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Our boys were out front "riding bikes" one evening last week while daddy was washing the car.

Actually, little brother Judah was sitting on his red tricycle on the paltry stretch of sidewalk directly in front of our house feeling his limitations.

He longed to break free...to ride the wide open streets like big brother Jericho, who kept passing by the house on a continuous loop from the cul-de-sac out to the street and back.

Finally, he could stand it no more. "Pweeze can I wide on ye-oh bike Jay-co?"

After several mournful pleadings, Jericho finally consented and pulled to a stop to let him climb up on the pegs.

Little brother couldn't have been happier.

Daddy called inside, "Quick, get the camera!"

I arrived on the porch and saw this.



And something about the facial expression big brother was wearing just then reminded me of something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Until he deadpanned, "I can get 70 miles to the gallon on this hog. There's still room for one more if you still want to go to Aspen."

And then it all became very clear.

Lovely.

Now why, if he had to emulate someone, couldn't he have gone for someone a little more...noble?

Like say...Lancelot gallantly rescuing Guinevere from the stake?

Granted, it's his kid brother and not a fair maiden, but still.

On second thought, forget I said anything.

I don't need him getting any ideas like this for anything that involves swiftly moving horsepower.

Especially considering he asked for one of these motorized bad-boys for his upcoming birthday

I'm just not sure I'm ready for him to be pulling crazy stunts like this

And especially not in front of his daredevil impressionable little brother who has already started doing things like this

and this

and this!

Oh, lawsamercy...why don't they make smelling salts anymore? I'm feeling a little faint all of a sudden...

Doh!

Leap-blogging off of Dawn's idea, we went HERE and Simpsonized our family.

Meet the Simpson's newest neighbors, The Frumps!



Just thought I'd pass along the info in case you were in need of something to waste the next four hours of your time!

For some odd reason I was thinking the above sentence in comedian Gilbert Gottfried's voice as I was typing, lol.

(Betcha go check out the Simpsonizing site, though, huh?)

In Which She Brags Shamelessly On Her Kids

One of Jericho's daily chores is to feed the dog, and to see to it that her water dish (an old camping cooler) stays clean and sterile and is refilled each afternoon with fresh, cool water.

A couple of mornings ago I went outside and found that the cooler was noticably green and disgusting around the edges.

Now I know that hot weather speeds this algae growing process up, but if our son was a little more vigilant in preventing it from getting to this point, that might help, too.

To demonstrate how repugnant and unsanitary it was for the dog to be drinking such dirty water, I picked up a sippy cup that I'd found earlier that morning beneath the sofa (which had Ovaltine brownish-pink yogurt curdled inside) and asked if he'd enjoy drinking the contents of such a cup.

He was, of course, thoroughly repulsed.

So, armed with a bottle of Dawn and a scrub brush, out he went to get the job done.

And--as he is wont to do--stayed out far longer than necessary for the task.

I had started getting dinner ready, and after several minutes found that I needed the garbage to be taken out, and so called for him to come in.

He showed up at the back door like this.



And then proceeded to do this.



And this.



And this.



This from my son who has begun making sounds about wanting to be treated like he's more mature. You know, like a teenager.

Which is kind of hard for a mom to do when he's pulling goofy stunts like this and still plays with action figures and G.I. Joes.

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They say that kids thrive on routines.

I believe this to be true in lots of ways.

For instance, if daddy doesn't scoop little Judah up at approximately the same time each night, take him around to kiss everyone goodnight, and then tuck him into his bed with his blankie and binkie, he goes hog-wild, tearing through the house like Taz, leaving a wake of destruction in his path (Judah, not daddy, lol).

Then, with his pent-up energy completely spent, he will lay down wherever he happens to end up and promptly fall asleep there.

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One of my favorite things ever is when I catch a glimpse of how important to our toddler's security and well-being that boundaries and routines are in his eyes.

It used to be that when he would see the Golden Arches, even if he'd just eaten, he would whine, "I want a hamma-grrr", and would throw a fit when we passed it, whining all the way home.

But after much work, with consistency and follow-through, he no longer whines about it all the way home.

After dropping big brother off at school one morning last week, Judah and I ran errands on the way home, and when passing by the golden arches, he 'tested' me by asking for a hamma-grrr.

To which I immediately replied, "No. We're going to go home and you can have some yogurt or cereal." I tried to sound enthusiastic about the prospects.

From him I hear that single, indignant **cough** sound that kids do when they are put out by something their parents do, immediately followed by a moderately whiney, "What?!" But that was it.

Not a huge gain I'll admit, but it sure beats the incessant whiney cries all the way home.

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Another 'tradition' that Judah likes to make sure I uphold, is how I respond to his outlandish claims.

And being the kind of kid he is, he makes several of these a day.

Earlier today, he looked at me very seriously, wearing one of the extra backpacks we have around the house and said to me, "I go to cowwedge wif my pack-ack".

"You did naaaaaat" I replied, poking him in the tummy as if to say, "Silly boy". He grins and runs off to find something else to get into do.

"Mama, the dwagon bited me" he announced later, after seeing a Komodo dragon in a picture book.

"Nuh-uh" I said, poking him in the tummy.

Normally he would grin, and run off, but this time he stayed planted where he was, shook his little head as if disagreeing with me...then his eyes light up and he tilts his head slightly and says, "It did naaaaaht!" mimicking almost exactly my usual tone and response to his claims.

With children, it would seem that predictability translates as security, and gives a child a sense of contentment.

Well, except when he sees his bag of pinata candy on top of the fridge and wants it bad, asking and whining and pleading for it.

Though your answers are predictably "no" (he only gets it when we use it to bribe him to eat his dinner offer it to him), there is simply no contentment when he knows that bag is full of "canny" and "bub-oh gom".

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Judah recently came up to me, cradled my cheeks in his hands and said all affectionately, "Mama? Ye-oh so cute."

Made my heart melt into a little puddle right there on the floor.

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While in the middle of a VBS planning meeting last Sunday evening after church, Jericho and Judah were hanging out with some of the kids just outside the door on the concrete pad.

Jericho came running in and told my friend Brenda, "Ah, Cassie fell off the skateboard out there, and we're trying to revive her..."

"Trying to revive her?!!" she exclaimed, already rushing to get outside to her daughter.

Turns out Cassie had fallen off one of the boys skateboards outside, got the wind knocked out of her, and bruised up her elbow pretty good.

Not to mention that it probably stung a bit to have fallen in front of all those boys.

We heard from Cassie later that all she saw and heard in the ensuing chaos of her fall were the boys leaning over her, their concerned voices asking, "Are you okay?" and Judah saying over and over, "She dead! Cath-y dead!"

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Now that Awana is over for the summer, Jeff has begun another study of the book of Revelation with our teens from church.

The kids in our youth group are fascinated with the study of the end times, and can't seem to get enough of it. Each summer, they literally beg for us to go through this book again.

Seeing as there is a blessing for all those who read that book, hear it and take to heart what is written in it (Rev. 1:3), we figure it can't hurt to study it again and again each and every summer.

Besides, it helps to clarify their understanding a little more each time we go through it.

Because we work with the youth group, our boys are often in our class with us and are therefore exposed to a great deal of teaching on topics one might think were far above their level of comprehension.

But at 11, Jericho already has a pretty good working knowledge of the book.

Or so we thought.

Upon starting the study last week, Jeff asked each person in attendance to draw a picture of what they think of when they study the book of Revelation, or End Times prophecies.

There were the expected themes of chaos and destruction, the Battle of Armageddon, Jesus Second coming and his reign during the Millennium. One girl drew question marks all over her paper, representing the great mystery that it all was to her.

Jericho, however, drew a picture of a demon and an angel throwing down insults at each other in a "Yo' Mama" contest.

I'm thinking we have some work ahead of us trying to straighten out his understanding of such things.

A Weekend Trip to the L.A. Zoo

After an early lunch Friday, we packed our family into the car for the long drive to Los Angeles, California, anticipating our long Memorial Day weekend getaway together as a family.

We stayed overnight with friends in Long Beach, and got up early Saturday morning to meet up with Uncle Butch and Aunt Frances for a trip to the L.A. Zoo and Botanical Gardens.

As the family photographer, I was really looking forward to the prospect of taking dozens of pictures of not-often-seen animal and plant species, and capturing a couple of memorable shots of our boys in these unusual surroundings.

This might have gone fairly well, except that I somehow missed the memo that it was mating day at the zoo.

Though there are many species of primates at the zoo, my pictures of the day are entirely devoid of monkeys, because (to keep this blog G-rated) there was an awful lot of monkey business going on in those particular habitats.

It was the same story in the tortoise exhibit, where there was much territorial pushing and shoving amongst the males, competing for the attention of the lone female.

And did you know that female camels find foaming at the mouth attractive on a male camel? Blech!

I will spare you the details of the flamingo courtship, except to say that it was perhaps the most awkward and ungainly thing ever to happen upon in polite company.

Except perhaps having your 11 year old son suddenly blurt out in an overly loud voice, "What are they doing?!!" his face all screwed up in morbid fascination.

Made even more awkward by the fact that Jericho knew full well what the flamingos were doing (we're pretty frank about such things in our home) and just wanted to embarrass his poor mom, who was the unfortunate soul who happened to witness the spectacle with him.

If you've not yet had discussions on the "birds and bees" with your young children, I don't recommend going to the zoo in the spring.

Because that is a sure-fire way to launch yourself full-tilt into having to answer all manner of curious questions about the facts of life...things you might not be prepared to discuss with your child right then and especially not in front of amused strangers crowded around you at the exhibit. *blushes*

Now normally, when in vacation-mode, I am able to concentrate and take great photos. But due in part to the mating going on in every other exhibit we visited, it turned out to be a day of disappointments for me photographically speaking.

During our lunch break on some benches outside of the Aviary, I was enthralled by local hummingbirds coming to sip nectar from the giant African bird-of-paradise plants.

Being my favorite bird and the giant specimen of plant a close cousin to one of my favorite flowers, I absolutely had to capture one frameworthy shot for use as a screensaver on my laptop.
However, for the better part of a half hour, I'd painstakingly get the camera set up just so, hold perfectly still for a period of time until another hummingbird would happen by, and just as I would go to depress the button on my camera, the slightest movement would cause the elusive little bird to zip out of the frame.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

What I ended up with is one that includes what appears to be an impaled hummingbird.



You may be able to find the hummingbird in this one if you look really closely. With a magnifying glass.



Then there was the little problem of the zoo animals simply not cooperating with me as I was trying to arrange my photographs properly.

Here, the kangaroo jumped out of the picture just as I pushed the button.



These antelope refused to either stand still and graze, run or leap as would be expected of them.



NoOOooo, instead they spent the entire time standing up on their hind legs and eating the ivy at the edges of their habitat.

And the prairie dog exhibit? B-o-o-o-o-ring.

The only little cuties I saw popping up out of the holes were my own kids.

And my sister-in-law, Frances.



The solitary inhabitant in that so-called exhibit wouldn't even turn around for me to take a picture of his face.

Neither did the rhino or the hippo.

(And in case you're wondering why in the world I would take a picture of such a thing...the backside on this rhinocerous was easily the width and heighth of a Volkswagon bug. Nature shows don't do these things justice. They are enormous animals.)

Or the giraffes or zebras, come to think of it.

And do you see the zebra on the left, shaking his head just to mess up my picture? Outright defiance, I tell you!

In fact, the only creatures that did show their faces were the ones that felt somehow threatened or agitated by our presence there.

Like this ginormous vulture, which came hobbling towards us as though trying to scare us away.

We merely laughed at his absurd movements, which I'm pretty sure took the wind out of his sails, as he hung his head in shame. A more homely bird I'd be hard-pressed to find.

After this zoo experience, I have developed a theory that the animals may actually be conspiring together against zoo visitors. Showing only their worst sides or sleeping during visiting hours, thinking that if they bore the visitors for long enough then they'll all go away, the zoo will close, and they'll eventually get released back into the wild.

Case in point? The big cats.

They either turned away or slept the entire time we were there!

How very rude of them!

While standing in front of the sleepy lion habitat, we were wondering aloud where the male lion was hiding, when suddenly from up behind us someone bellowed in a very deep, very loud masculine voice that echoed off the walls like a gunshot, "GET UP!"

The male lion, who had been sleeping peacefully behind a tuft of grass and some other vegetation shot up suddenly as if to roar, "Who dares to disrupt me from my slumber?!"



The deep, 15-foot gulf separating the lions from the spectators suddenly seemed rather paltry and insufficient to contain that creature in light of his aroused anger and powerful presence.

I actually felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and urged our little party towards the next exhibit as quickly as I could.

But I needn't have worried. He just yawned, flashing his menacing jaws and teeth, and then rolled over on his back and slept like a spoiled and overfed house cat.

While the majority of my animal photos were a bust, I did get some pretty good shots of some of the beautiful botanical specimens in the gardens, which helped to redeem the occasion somewhat, at least for me.

This delicate blossom was about six inches in diameter at the bottom, and was called Angel's Trumpet. It looked as though it were made of silk.

And at long last, a nice candid and loving shot of our boys.



Though we had a nice time visiting with Butch and Frances, I doubt we'll be going to a zoo again anytime soon.

There is something about going to the zoo that makes our oldest son go absolutely ape, resorting to very odd and unusual behaviors.

Like climbing into the rafters in the Lemur exhibit, and making sounds like a howler monkey.

(Which made it difficult to get a decent picture with Aunt Frances and Uncle Butch)

Then again, maybe that is normal for boys his age.

Parenting Challenges

Some days I find myself almost hoarse from repeatedly barking out instructions to my boys.

"Don't hit your brother!"

"Don't touch your brother!"

"Quit tormenting your brother!"

"Stop provoking your brother!"

And yes, I say "your brother" a lot.

That is because we made the mistake of naming both our sons names beginning with "J".

Coming from the long distinguished line of mothers that I came from, I first try to say their given names but usually end up stammering and stuttering and hopelessly tongue-tied, saying the wrong child's name first, "...J-J-Jer-Jud-YOU! I'm talking to you!"

Which, when big brother is at fault usually results in him smirking, snorting and coughing, trying to cover his amused laughter.

Which, when I try to compensate by putting on a fearsome look, results in a smirk of my own and his outright laughing in my face while I'm trying to be the big bad disciplinarian, all of which serves to make correcting his behavior very difficult.

So you can see it's imperitave that I just use the catch-all phrase, "Your brother" if I'm to be taken seriously at all.

When the bickering in the car gets bad, I might have to whip out the trusty old standby that is highly inconvenient to them, "Sit on your hands!", or it's close cousin, "Zip your lips!" That's pure torture to my boys.

But when it's really bad, I might resort to flipping down the rearview mirror so they can see my "big eyes" frowning at them, and yell firmly say something like, "Do I need to pull this car over?"
That's usually when they realize they'd best not cross the line.

And lest you think our 11 year old is the only one to blame at times like this, the "Do not touch your brother" kinds of comments are used interchangably and fairly equally between both boys, the 11 year old and our toddler.

Who at 2 1/2 knows far more than folks give him credit for.

Yep, he can dish it out with the best of 'em, taunting big brother and knowing exactly how to get his goat and push his buttons.



I know, he looks so sweet and innocent, doesn't he?

Don't let that fool you.

Well-intentioned comments like, "He's just a little tyke" or "He doesn't know any better"...those just don't fly with me.

He might be little, but he does know better.

I know this because I have (for about 6 months now) observed him numerous times purposefully doing things, understanding exactly what he was up to: instigating and provoking others like a champ.

The kid can hold his own, and I'm quite sure I'll never have to worry about him getting picked on at school.

In fact, it actually worries me a little, thinking that with his strong will and the way things are going now, that I might be the parent getting the calls saying that my kid was picking on other kids. And I'll know there is truth to their accusations.

Lord, help me is my earnest prayer whenever I even think about such things.

Getting back to my story, however, this morning was one of those "I have one nerve left and you're getting on it" kind of mornings.

We started off a bit rushed, because moments before we had to leave, big brother had a backpack emergency.

The bottom of this year's backpack suddenly split open beyond hope of repair.

No amount of duct tape could contain the 30 pounds of books and papers about to explode all over the living room.

I was shocked to discover that the old 'fix-all', the ultra-tacky duct tape we've used countless times to MacGyver our way out of all manner of household dilemmas seemed to have insufficient hold over the slippery silver-gray nylon-weave fabric the backpack was constructed from.

The same duct tape that Jericho suggested we use, and yea, apparently even preferred trying it (with intent of actually taking the patched up mess to school) over the three other new-looking backpacks we happened to have around the house.

Jericho immediately nixed the first two options, the first of which was a solid blue backpack with a virtually indestructable space-age fabric bottom. The same backpack that I used briefly in college and later as Jericho's diaper bag. That one was clearly out of the question on account of it being so "old and out of style".

Never mind that it was well-made, still looked brand new, and would take whatever beating his textbooks could dish out without busting at the seams.

The second backpack was one of the freebies daddy picked up at a teacher's conference a few weeks ago, and is bright red. Neon red, really. Which I should have known would never fly with Jericho.

That I would even deign to suggest it earned me an exasperated roll of the eyes, which meant, if my parental radar is correct, that I have absolutely no sense of style where backpacks are concerned.

Pardon me for not realizing there was a 'style' in backpacks. If they're all a solid color, they look pretty much the same to me. And if you ask me, any backpack beats the alternative...lugging all his gear around in an Albertson's reusable cloth grocery sack.

To my way of thinking, having a new-looking backpack was preferable to a patched up duct-taped cheapo quality backpack that couldn't even hang with him til the end of the school year.

I knew this wasn't as big a deal as he was making it out to be, and time was ticking away.

In an act of last-minute desperation, I finally dug daddy's all-black backpack out of storage.
It was a roomy solid black backpack roughly the same dimensions as Jericho's ruined one.

Jeff obtained this thing from a military surplus store for the express purpose of hiking and for lugging gear around on youth group outings. It has a couple of pockets on the side for water bottles and plenty of room inside to haul along anything one might need to have along.

Jericho tried one last tack. "Mah-ahm! People will make fun of me!"

"They will not! Nobody is going to be watching your backpack closely enough to even notice."

Brooking no argument, I forced firmly insisted that big brother transfer his stuff to his dad's backpack, while I dashed around trying to locate little brother's other sandal, get them on him and then usher the boys out the door so we wouldn't be late to school.

I was already sweating like a farm animal when we stepped outside to already hot temps at 8:45 am.

The day was destined to be a scorcher.

I opened a sunbaked car door to the lovely heat-absorbing black interior of our old Mercury Cougar.

And immediately felt a bad case of the crankies coming on.

I don't do heat well.

On a side note, matching issues aside, how and why did the automobile manufacturers ever come to the conclusion that black would be a good color for the interior of a car?

It does little to make the car warmer in the winter, shows every speck of lint and every crumb that falls to the floor...and absorbs the heat like a solar cooker in the summer.

Not to mention that if one is wearing a skirt or shorts and unwittingly touches leather-look black seats that have been sitting in the sun for hours with bare skin, there might conceivably be an immediate need for a skin graft.

These are big strikes against the color as suitable for a car interior, and all things considered, I once again strongly suspect that there were no mothers of small children on the panel making that decision.

If it doesn't have a light neutral and yet multi-colored, water-resistant upholstery that will disguise greasy handprints, withstand mustard and ketchup smears from cheeseburgers, muddy feet and the occasional sticky candy or cough drop, and on which will puddle spills from sodas, bottles and other liquids for easy cleanup...it simply has no business even being in a vehicle.

Days like this, when we're only two minutes into the drive the kids are already bickering and using forbidden phrases like, "Shub up, Jay-co!", and an under-the-breath, "Make me!"being hissed in reply...well, it was enough to get on my last nerve.

After invoking a gag order forbidding any talking, and then spending a little time in our usual way-to-school family prayer time, we managed to make it to school without further incident.

This in spite of big brother's continuing crisis over dad's totally uncool hiking backpack and little brother's just-woke-up meltdown over not getting to play with big brother's action figure which he could see from where he was sitting but nobody could reach for him.

At school, we exchanged our goodbyes and Jericho got out, still none-too-happy about the backpack, and sulked onto campus his head downcast.

Waiting in the exit lane, I sat there wondering if anything we've worked so hard to instill in these boys would ever stick.

Mr. Gene, the traffic director, was his usual enthusiastic self trying to speed things up with his, "Hurry up, let's go" motions.

Just as I reached the exit, I had to swerve a bit to avoid an incoming car that turned too wide into the parking lot, and suddenly from the backseat Judah yells out in a very firm and, ahem, familiar tone, "Don't hit that guy, mama!"

**Hallelujah Chorus sounds in background**

In one of those silver-lining, sunbeams-streaming-down-from-Heaven kind of moments, I realized with sudden clarity that he gets it! He really, really gets it!

And that little bit of Divine insight was just enough to encourage me to keep at what I have been doing as a parent, even when I don't see the results right away, because something is getting through!

Perhaps there is still time for him to learn all he needs to avoid the principals office after all, lol.

**edited (the morning after this story was originally written) **

Jericho decided this morning that my old college backpack wasn't so bad after all.

Apparently 'retro' is in.

All About MeMeMeMeMe's

Recently, I had a rare and blissful Saturday morning with absolutely nothing else on the agenda and daddy had the kids helping him outside, so I thought I'd get caught up on a few things in bloggyville.

I know some of you aren't wild about MEME's, so I'm going to forewarn you that I'm doing three at once.

Yes, because you don't already hear enough about FrumpMama and her family on a day-to-day basis here at Stuck in Frump, I thought you should all be forced to read through not one, not two, but three meme's all. about. me. Mwahahahaha!

For those of you that love meme's or are having a bit of trouble finding blog material due to spring fever...CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED. Grab one of these and run with it. ;)

Meme #1

One Word Meme, courtesy Rosie at Nobody Asked Me.

*disclaimer* You sharp-eyed bloggy peeps may notice that I far exceeded my one-word limit in some of my answers. For this I apologize. I'm at home with a toddler most days with 30,000 words a day to expend, and I'm afraid the excess wordage oozes out everywhere else--my blog, conversations I have with my friends that live nearby, and all the poor souls that make the mistake of calling me during the week (even the telemarketers, lol). It's pathetic, really.

But without further ado, adieu delay, here goes:

You're feeling: happy

To your left: shelves

On your mind: an extended family situation

Last meal included: salad

You sometimes find it hard to: cook

The weather: perfect

Something you have a collection of: rocks (isn't that just so interesting? Woo. Hoo. Exciting stuff going on in FrumpMama's life, huh? Well, it gets better. Jeff has, at various times throughout our dating years and married life actually given me Rocks as gifts. And I LIKED them. These aren't just any rocks, though. It's a specimen collection of many types of rocks from around the world...the kind that geologists sometimes have in their offices. Maybe one day I'll blog about that. Perhaps after we move and I FIND the heavy box with my best specimens in it...)

A smell that cheers you up: brownies baking

A smell that can ruin your mood: bus exhaust

How long since you last shaved: this morning

The current state of your hair: Long overdue for hairapy

The largest item on your desk/workspace (not computer): stack of paper trays

Your skill with chopsticks: I wouldn't starve, but eating rice is a bit tricky

Which section you head for first in a bookstore: inspirational fiction

Something you're craving: sleep

Your general thoughts on the presidential race: ignore it, it will go away? (kidding)

How many times have you been hospitalized this year: none

Favorite place to go for a quiet moment: bedroom

You've always secretly thought you'd be a good: carpenter

Something that freaks you out a little: clowns

Something you've eaten too much of lately: chocolate

You have never: bungee-jumped

You never want to: break a bone

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Meme # 2

Random Meme, courtesy Maria at Mommy of Four

Rules:

1. Post these rules at the beginning of the meme

2. Each player answers the questions about themselves

3. At the end of the post, the player tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment to let them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog. (I'm fudging on this one for the above mentioned reasons)

What I was doing 10 years ago: Getting ready to move across country

Five Snacks I enjoy: Dove chocolate with Almonds, Double Chocolate Almond Biscotti, Bruchetta (homemade), beef jerky, macadamia nuts

Things I would do if I were a billionaire: Build well-run and self-sufficient (foodwise) orphanages, establish feeding programs and hospitals in needy areas around the world, establish college scholarships at my alma mater, pay off debts of those I know and care about

Five jobs that I have had: nanny, Christian radio show hospitality host, grocery store cashier, computer lab supervisor in a school, school picture photographer

Three of my bad habits: staying awake late into the night reading, scrapbooking or other crafts (and paying for it the next day); procrastinating; not getting enough exercise

Five places I have lived: in a house by a pond, in a rundown duplex, in a dorm, in an apartment next to the freeway, in a basement

Five people I would like to get to know better: all my bloggy peeps

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Meme #3

Linking Post, courtesy Cathy at Keeping it Real

Rules:

Go through your archives and link to five of your favorite posts in the following categories...

A link to a post about family: A Frump Family Weekend This one covers a little of everything.

A link to a post about friends: Good News

A link to a post about yourself: What Would I Like For Christmas?

A link to a post about something you love: Car Rx A post about car problems, which seems to be a recurring theme here on FrumpMama's blog.

What I love? The Lord, and His wonderful care of and provision for our family.

A link to a post about anything you want: The Family Dog Is Jacking This Blog The day our dog jacked my blog. Prior to my foray into blogging, she regularly snuck letters into the family Christmas cards. Where you see the picture of FrumpMama now with the curlers in my hair, she'd had this picture up:

She'd also changed the name of the blog to "Stuck in the Master's backyard, Striving to get Free".

She is quite possibly the world's most techno-savvy dog.

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OKAY, ENOUGH WITH THE MEME'S. I'm done for now.

Wordless Wednesday: A Door Washed Ashore