except that there's this rubber band thing, that snaps you right back in there. Twang! (that's gotta hurt)
Day three of the sickies, and the Man is now quietly and wisely replenishing my chocolate supply. Bless him. And I'm actually going through my email, in hopes that there really is life on the other end of my steadily elongating tunnel. (have spoon, will tunnel to freedom. or at least, fresh air.)
We've now watched all of the Pixar shorts that I could find - Geri's Game? love it! - played round after round of Uno, added pockets to the Toddles' Purim costume, napped and turned our sad, sandy front garden into a geometry project.
If each square on the graph paper = 4 inches, and we build a 10x40 raised bed here, a 36x40 raised bed there, and a 10x36 raised bed there, can the gigantic recycling toters that will SAVE OUR WORLD be able to get through to the sidewalk?
answer: um. eep.
We cut out a paper toter, generously sized, and maneuvered it through the garden. Worked out missing bits, like oh - the existing garden beds? the left side of the garden? (ahem) and made a list of measurements that someone should go and get.
What about triangular garden beds? asked the Eldest, who had designed some in class. I looked at him. Could work, I said. Can you work out the area for me? Let's see which gives us more planting space. The Eldest nodded - thought better of it - and beat a hasty retreat. I'm - um - going to go play Uno with the Toddles, he informed me, virtuously. And vanished.
Leaving me with bits of paper, and a vision of a world outside. Or what it could be, if I only had the time - and a whisper of spring.
Day three of the sickies, and the Man is now quietly and wisely replenishing my chocolate supply. Bless him. And I'm actually going through my email, in hopes that there really is life on the other end of my steadily elongating tunnel. (have spoon, will tunnel to freedom. or at least, fresh air.)
We've now watched all of the Pixar shorts that I could find - Geri's Game? love it! - played round after round of Uno, added pockets to the Toddles' Purim costume, napped and turned our sad, sandy front garden into a geometry project.
If each square on the graph paper = 4 inches, and we build a 10x40 raised bed here, a 36x40 raised bed there, and a 10x36 raised bed there, can the gigantic recycling toters that will SAVE OUR WORLD be able to get through to the sidewalk?
answer: um. eep.
We cut out a paper toter, generously sized, and maneuvered it through the garden. Worked out missing bits, like oh - the existing garden beds? the left side of the garden? (ahem) and made a list of measurements that someone should go and get.
What about triangular garden beds? asked the Eldest, who had designed some in class. I looked at him. Could work, I said. Can you work out the area for me? Let's see which gives us more planting space. The Eldest nodded - thought better of it - and beat a hasty retreat. I'm - um - going to go play Uno with the Toddles, he informed me, virtuously. And vanished.
Leaving me with bits of paper, and a vision of a world outside. Or what it could be, if I only had the time - and a whisper of spring.
1 comment:
I hope you did not get this when you visited our house, although I fear you might have. We thought we were all through it and not contagious anymore, but then Gabe came down with it. Argh! I hope you all are feeling better.
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