annie blog

I Love Ornch

Ornch is how my baby used to pronounce the color orange.

Isn’t this a pretty Gerber Daisy? My 2nd oldest gave it to me for Mother’s Day. Now that it has finished blooming I’m going to plant it in the ground with hopes of it coming back next year. And, I am going to remain optimistic about its prospects even though I’m the one who will be doing the planting. The only plants that tend to thrive under my care are those that are old and stubborn, like my ficus tree, or unkillable, such as the mint outside my back door. And, truthfully, I wasn’t holding out hopes for the mint. It surprised me.

Now I’ve got to get myself together and get over to the grocery store and then to the pool by noon, so that I can get a chair today. Oh, the humanity at the pool. It really isn’t the best place to be sort of germaphobe. But it is kind of helping the sanity-retention in other ways, so we shall sally forth.

How did it get to be the 18th of June? The summer has sprouted wings.

And that is a very good thing.

The Beignets…

from Saturday morning.

Did I put dark chocolate in some of them? Yep. Guilty.

The Beignets…

from Saturday morning.

Did I put dark chocolate in some of them? Yep. Guilty.

The Beignets…

from Saturday morning.

Did I put dark chocolate in some of them? Yep. Guilty.

My Buster
Oh, my quirky baby. Or, not baby, as he tells me, “I’m not a baby! I’ve got my own life now!”

Okay.

I think maybe I should call him my Buster instead of my Baby. That is a switch that I think I can make.

The child has never met a stranger. Never, ever, EVER. Last week at the pool, he talked and talked to one of the other moms who was there. At one point in their conversation she laughingly said to me, “He’s so shy — not!”. A little later, he broke off talking to her to do some groovy dancing around the pool to the oldies music that was blaring from the speakers. (My Buster is an awesome dancer.) A few minutes later, I looked up from my book to see him getting a tutorial from one of the lifeguards on how to test the pool’s water. The next time I looked up he had persuaded a teenaged babysitter to water him with the watering can that her ward had brought to the pool.

Never having met someone before is not a concept that matters — to him.

Like the lack of shyness, he has also never been stumped. During the school year, he would tell his pre-k teachers elaborate, imaginative stories. They would ask him questions. He would always, ALWAYS have an answer.

This means, of course, that he would sometimes have to make up words. For example, the other day in conversation with me, he used the word inchoosinal. I know that you’re dying to know what it means so I’ll tell you. For E (who is 5) inchoosinal is defined as being something that is his size.

I wonder if he was using that word when he was talking to the lifeguard at the top of the 2 story curvy tube slide? (Buster was up there because he gave me the slip while I was giving some instructions to my oldest son.) Maybe he said, “Dude, this slide is totally inchoosinal to me, I don’t care that I’m not as tall as you say that I’ve got to be. It’s INCHOOSINAL, man!” That is what his body language looked like, to me, anyway. He finally descended the stairs with good grace but I’m not certain that I won’t see him up there again soon, pleading his case with the lifeguard. Busters are not easily sidetracked, you know.

Anyway, one more thing about my Buster and then I’ll be done.

He doesn’t like flying insects. So, the other day…..

Buster: Hey get that bug! I don’t like that bug. It’s on my list.
Me: On what list?
Buster: On the list of things that I’m afraid of.
Me: Oh.
Buster: Yep. It’s extensive.
Me: Your list is extensive?
Buster: Uh-huh. That means that it’s really long.

What a buster.

My Buster
Oh, my quirky baby. Or, not baby, as he tells me, “I’m not a baby! I’ve got my own life now!”

Okay.

I think maybe I should call him my Buster instead of my Baby. That is a switch that I think I can make.

The child has never met a stranger. Never, ever, EVER. Last week at the pool, he talked and talked to one of the other moms who was there. At one point in their conversation she laughingly said to me, “He’s so shy — not!”. A little later, he broke off talking to her to do some groovy dancing around the pool to the oldies music that was blaring from the speakers. (My Buster is an awesome dancer.) A few minutes later, I looked up from my book to see him getting a tutorial from one of the lifeguards on how to test the pool’s water. The next time I looked up he had persuaded a teenaged babysitter to water him with the watering can that her ward had brought to the pool.

Never having met someone before is not a concept that matters — to him.

Like the lack of shyness, he has also never been stumped. During the school year, he would tell his pre-k teachers elaborate, imaginative stories. They would ask him questions. He would always, ALWAYS have an answer.

This means, of course, that he would sometimes have to make up words. For example, the other day in conversation with me, he used the word inchoosinal. I know that you’re dying to know what it means so I’ll tell you. For E (who is 5) inchoosinal is defined as being something that is his size.

I wonder if he was using that word when he was talking to the lifeguard at the top of the 2 story curvy tube slide? (Buster was up there because he gave me the slip while I was giving some instructions to my oldest son.) Maybe he said, “Dude, this slide is totally inchoosinal to me, I don’t care that I’m not as tall as you say that I’ve got to be. It’s INCHOOSINAL, man!” That is what his body language looked like, to me, anyway. He finally descended the stairs with good grace but I’m not certain that I won’t see him up there again soon, pleading his case with the lifeguard. Busters are not easily sidetracked, you know.

Anyway, one more thing about my Buster and then I’ll be done.

He doesn’t like flying insects. So, the other day…..

Buster: Hey get that bug! I don’t like that bug. It’s on my list.
Me: On what list?
Buster: On the list of things that I’m afraid of.
Me: Oh.
Buster: Yep. It’s extensive.
Me: Your list is extensive?
Buster: Uh-huh. That means that it’s really long.

What a buster.

My Buster
Oh, my quirky baby. Or, not baby, as he tells me, “I’m not a baby! I’ve got my own life now!”

Okay.

I think maybe I should call him my Buster instead of my Baby. That is a switch that I think I can make.

The child has never met a stranger. Never, ever, EVER. Last week at the pool, he talked and talked to one of the other moms who was there. At one point in their conversation she laughingly said to me, “He’s so shy — not!”. A little later, he broke off talking to her to do some groovy dancing around the pool to the oldies music that was blaring from the speakers. (My Buster is an awesome dancer.) A few minutes later, I looked up from my book to see him getting a tutorial from one of the lifeguards on how to test the pool’s water. The next time I looked up he had persuaded a teenaged babysitter to water him with the watering can that her ward had brought to the pool.

Never having met someone before is not a concept that matters — to him.

Like the lack of shyness, he has also never been stumped. During the school year, he would tell his pre-k teachers elaborate, imaginative stories. They would ask him questions. He would always, ALWAYS have an answer.

This means, of course, that he would sometimes have to make up words. For example, the other day in conversation with me, he used the word inchoosinal. I know that you’re dying to know what it means so I’ll tell you. For E (who is 5) inchoosinal is defined as being something that is his size.

I wonder if he was using that word when he was talking to the lifeguard at the top of the 2 story curvy tube slide? (Buster was up there because he gave me the slip while I was giving some instructions to my oldest son.) Maybe he said, “Dude, this slide is totally inchoosinal to me, I don’t care that I’m not as tall as you say that I’ve got to be. It’s INCHOOSINAL, man!” That is what his body language looked like, to me, anyway. He finally descended the stairs with good grace but I’m not certain that I won’t see him up there again soon, pleading his case with the lifeguard. Busters are not easily sidetracked, you know.

Anyway, one more thing about my Buster and then I’ll be done.

He doesn’t like flying insects. So, the other day…..

Buster: Hey get that bug! I don’t like that bug. It’s on my list.
Me: On what list?
Buster: On the list of things that I’m afraid of.
Me: Oh.
Buster: Yep. It’s extensive.
Me: Your list is extensive?
Buster: Uh-huh. That means that it’s really long.

What a buster.

Deaner Weener
After reading my posts this week, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any pictures of my little sister, Deana. So, here you go.

Isn’t she pretty? She’s taller than I am and has long legs and enough hair for three people.

But I try not to hold that against her.

And it’s her birthday, today.

Happy Birthday, Deana!!!!
Love, Annie Fannie

Deaner Weener
After reading my posts this week, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any pictures of my little sister, Deana. So, here you go.

Isn’t she pretty? She’s taller than I am and has long legs and enough hair for three people.

But I try not to hold that against her.

And it’s her birthday, today.

Happy Birthday, Deana!!!!
Love, Annie Fannie

Deaner Weener
After reading my posts this week, it occurred to me that I didn’t have any pictures of my little sister, Deana. So, here you go.

Isn’t she pretty? She’s taller than I am and has long legs and enough hair for three people.

But I try not to hold that against her.

And it’s her birthday, today.

Happy Birthday, Deana!!!!
Love, Annie Fannie