Can I Ski Yet

Jack's been asking this same question over and over.

Can I ski yet?

Everytime we think of going on the boat...

Can I ski yet?

Everytime we actually get on the boat...

Can I ski yet?

And sadly, we've not thought it was the best idea just yet.

You know reasons that stop us from letting it happen are, "This is the Puget Sound. It's freezing cold. It's full of 8,000,000,000 jellyfish."

He doesn't care for any of those explanations.

When we told him were going to Mason Lake he got excited because he knows that that means it's not Puget Sound it might be warmer and it's not filled with jellyfish. (Future marine biologist)

He was pumped. And I was hopeful that we could make it work... but there were new problems now.

We don't know what the crap we're doing. What length should the rope be? How is he going to be able to get up without anyone in the water helping him because we need a spotter in the boat. And Afton was out of town and trusting Jocelyn didn't seem the most reliable. Oh and the water was freaking freezing.

He was super sad, but understanding.

It will happen one day.

One day he will finally be able to ski.

Yard Sale Treasure

You never know what you're going to find.

Sometimes you strike out big time with a whole Saturday morning spent in and out of the car, looking through other people's things that they've deemed unworthy to stay in their homes any longer.

Sometimes you find a little toy that was a shiny quarter that will break most assuredly before you even make it back home.

And then there are sometimes when you find something remarkable. Something that speaks to your soul. Something you will regret it for the rest of your life if you don't snag it. You may even try and haggle to get the price lower for it, or you may have even been willing to pay double just to make it yours. Yours forever.

That's what you call a yard sale treasure.

And my boy found a doozie, one magical day out yard sailing in North Bend, Wa.

My boy and his Peruvian flute.

First Time for Everything

Field Days have never been held in June.

Field Days have never had clouds.

Field Days always meant stinky bodies and bright red faces.

Field Days always meant the thrill of getting to the water station, so you can finally cool down.

Field Days meant sticky hands and faces from the popsicle station.

Field Days have never, ever had actual rain. Just the "rain" that comes from a PTA mom showering the kids with a hose because she's worried a kid is going to overheat.

I guess, there's a first time for everything.

First Field Day in Bremerton, Washington