South Carolina Aquarium

There is no doubt, people, that I am spoiled. Rotten. The South Carolina aquarium is very nice. It has many species of fish. A touch tank. A very large ocean tank with a diver show. A cute little kids’ area with local wildlife. But it’s no Shedd. I do realize I am a museum snob (among other snobberies) and I’m admitting it right here for the world to read. Chicago wins all museum comparisons. And zoos.

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So, the aquarium here is very nice. And small. But, so are my kids. So, really, it worked out perfectly. Well, except that Ben wanted to see MORE fish. But we’d already seen them all. Really? I think Ben is on to the whole afternoon nap scheme I’ve had going for the last 4 years, and he’s beginning to rebel. Ah well, it was a good run while it lasted.

Muppet Monday: Norah Jones don’t know Y.

Forgive the grammatical state of this post’s title–Poetic License, you know.

Blueberry Picking

You might remember back in March we went strawberry picking. We had so much fun and the berries were so good that we went back several times to restock. Well, we’re a bit late in the game for blueberry season, apparently, as Myers’ Farm might call it a season before next week. Boo hoo. Although, as it turns out, blueberries (at least in the quantities that Will consumed–think handfuls at a time shoved and smeared all over his cheeks) are a bit too digestively advanced for his tender, toddler tummy. Too much information? Ah well. It’s one of those duties they forget to put on the job description for parents–Poop Patrol. But, I digress. Let’s just look at blueberry picking photos. Happy happy children, (almost) organic blueberries, a bucket-like box that didn’t “kuplink” or “kuplank”, but definitely “kuplunked”. ‘Huh?’, you say? Go read Robert McCloskey’s Blueberries for Sal.
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Muppet Monday: Feist on Sesame Street

Thanks, Kiersten, for passing this on. Here’s a preview from Sesame Street’s upcoming 39th season starting next month. I love the muppets so much, I’ve decided to dedicate Mondays to them here. It’s all about the alliteration. See? Hmm, what next? Tupperware Tuesdays?

And just try to keep from singing this one all day long. 1-2-3-4 chickens just back from the shore… Hilarious!

Plumbing problem

We woke up this morning to a sink full of dishes.   We skipped doing them last night in favor of getting to bed early.  Not unusual–the sinkfull, that is.  Since, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post,  the boys are on the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, I pretty much make everything we eat from scratch.  That makes for lots of dishes and pots and pans and utensils.  We have a dishwasher (other than myself, heh) but I try not to run it more than once a day.  I also tend to need things that would otherwise be sitting in the machine, by the next meal, rather than the next day.  So, we do lots of dishes by hand.  Mark, actually, does lots of dishes by hand.  I love to cook, but have someone else clean up.  Mark likes to do dishes.  Well, I don’t know if he really “likes” it, but he often says he doesn’t mind, that it’s a ‘mindless’ job.  Hey, whatever–it’s working for me.

So, this morning when Mark dives in to the stack of pots and pans and bowls from last night, there is, strangely,  some sounds of frustration, banging of silverware, huffing about from Dear Husband.  I know the trouble is real when he stomps out of the room, then reappears with the sink plunger.  He attacks it mightily, takes apart the pipes, makes two different runs to Lowes for two different size drain snakes, but alas, we’ve got a clogged pipe.

Mark goes to work.  I call the plumber who is supposed to try and make an appearance “sometime” today.  I ignore the pile of dishes, pots, and pans as they accumulate over the course of our day–scrambled eggs, beef patties, squash fries, green beans… Finally, at around 3, the plumbing guys arrive.  (Two workers!  One, two! says Ben) Unfortunately they can’t find the blockage.  They think it must be in the line that runs around the house, further away than the 25 feet they can check with their equipment.  We’ll have to wait until tomorrow when the other guy can come with the “big” equipment.  Ugh.

So, in lieu of going to the library (our original plan for the evening), we did the dishes.  Like this:

It’s sort of like camping.  Dirty dishes in the laundry basket, tub full of suds.

The boys didn’t want the fun to end of course.

“I want to bang, Mama.” says Will.

So, they did.   It was an encore performance from the Charleston Chickens All Percussion Band. 

Let’s hope the plumber gets here soon tomorrow.  I’m going to need to wash all the “instruments” again.

Welcome!

Welcome to our new home!

Let’s cross our fingers that WordPress will be more helpful than Google if things go awry with passwords, email addresses and security questions.  I think I’ve gone through all the stages of grief (you know, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) over my Blogspot blogs.  It’s been a tough 3 weeks, let me tell ya.  As of now, I am plain unable to access them.  Locked out.  So, frozen in time they will stand.  But, it’s okay.  (deep breath)  The show must go on.    And here we are!

We’ve had a busy month with out-of-town guests for Ella Rose’s baptism, a new baby boy born to our friends, the Millers, and many days filled with sun, sand and surf.  You can check out some snapshots and catch up with the photo-a-day blog here.

I need to get my bearings here, still.  But blog I will.  Eventually.

Thanks for coming along.

A new home for the blogs

I am officially dumping Google.

Trying to deal with them this past month has been a special kind of hell.

I’ll spare you the details.

This will be the new site for gigimamainpajamas with a link, of course, for the new photo-a-day site.

Obviously, this is a work in progress. Bear with me.