Heritage’s “Family Harvest” event

A beautiful day met us for the annual free community celebration of fall. The church (which isn’t ours) flyers the neighborhoods with invitations to enjoy food, games, and drink at their grounds. w IMG4184 w IMG4217  w IMG4313 w IMG4223

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She’s a feisty one

Just another trip to the “wahluh,” which Ri has begun to call “Marco Polo” because of the game the siblings like to play.
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Weather Heat Advisory: 105

Thirty minutes filling balloons for 5 minutes of explosive fun and wet relief.

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Pool party? Yes, please

It’s been about two years since we’ve had our passes for the neighborhood pool. And since the kick off of each season includes food and music, we decided that we’d wait no longer to test the waters. w IMG0062w IMG0300w IMG0101w IMG0315w IMG0097bww IMG0077w IMG0252w IMG0142w IMG0100

Snow day for five

We ordered up a little snow for the five to enjoy.  It started early,  while I sat scrutinizing my peacock painting at Cheers. First, it looked pretty sparse, just a few flakes wafting through the air before settling and melting. But then, they came faster and began to stick. Suddenly, there was a blanket of white.  Traffic slowed, as caution and chaos battled along the roads.
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And when they called closure for school, we decided to explore the few open spaces that remain in the community. We were first to the hill, with our makeshift sleds in hand.  Why can we never find the real sleds when needed?
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Ri wanted no part of the snow or cold, while JD insisted winter was his favorite season.  But when his wet canvas sneakers began to freeze, he was more than happy to escort baby sister home.

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We gave it a good half hour and left the hill when too many would be sledders joined us on the slope.
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NaNoWriMo #16 (fur friendly)

A swift breeze brings the thousand little hairs to life. They dance around her neck, undulating to a rhythm no one can hear. She walks with a purposed stride up the sidewalk as traffic whips past her. Bracing from the sudden shock of cold, she shudders and rolls her shoulders. Inside her long coat, she looks quite stocky. Her shopping bags droop with the weight of their contents, each sack seemingly filled to capacity. Her sneakers look weathered beneath her loose hanging jeans. Her knit hat seems barely able to withstand another season, as yarn slips loose and waves in the winds of traffic. She too, with her dark leathery skin, has the look of years passing. She shows no sign of slowing, even as the cross walk light blinks its red hand to hault her progression.

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