First of all, I have never had a blogging month as bad as January 2015. Thirteen posts! I hang my head in shame. I tried to figure out what is keeping me from typing
I blame Richard and his early morning walks with me. We walk. I do most of the talking. By the time I get home, I think I have nothing left to say, which is pretty well true, having just talked my heart out for 55 minutes, got my pulse up to 140 and and kept my face buried in my scarf at the same time.
There are lots of things I want to tell. For example, that on a day when the snowfall had been heavy his little family joined me in our common back yard for a game of Fox And Geese. Richard didn't know the game. I remember it from the school play ground of my youth. Here is a u-tube of how the Slentz Family plays the game if you want to know how to set it up yourselves.
We weren't quite as careful about getting the circle round. We just got an outer border going with some cross paths and then invited Michael and Alice to play with us.
Too frightening, since Richard was the goose and had tucked both of his hands into his armpits and was waving his make-believe wings up and down and honking as he ran from the fox.
I was the fox and could only think of howling at the moon as I chased goose.
Michael wanted to sit on the steps. Too much terror in joining in.
Alice tried her best but at 18 months old there is not much a little person can do in the way of running in the deep snow when they have been zipped into an airtight snow suit.
It seemed only right to switch to toboganning in the backyard since Fox and Geese wasn't a big hit. Richard grabbed the plastic top of a large square container, tied a rope to one end of it, and then put Michael on the make-believe sleigh and pulled him around the fox and geese track.
Alice waited for her turn and so the winter morning went -- Richard and I getting a lot of exercise. The kids merely watching or getting rides.
What is wrong with this picture?
Arta
I blame Richard and his early morning walks with me. We walk. I do most of the talking. By the time I get home, I think I have nothing left to say, which is pretty well true, having just talked my heart out for 55 minutes, got my pulse up to 140 and and kept my face buried in my scarf at the same time.
There are lots of things I want to tell. For example, that on a day when the snowfall had been heavy his little family joined me in our common back yard for a game of Fox And Geese. Richard didn't know the game. I remember it from the school play ground of my youth. Here is a u-tube of how the Slentz Family plays the game if you want to know how to set it up yourselves.
We weren't quite as careful about getting the circle round. We just got an outer border going with some cross paths and then invited Michael and Alice to play with us.
Too frightening, since Richard was the goose and had tucked both of his hands into his armpits and was waving his make-believe wings up and down and honking as he ran from the fox.
I was the fox and could only think of howling at the moon as I chased goose.
Michael wanted to sit on the steps. Too much terror in joining in.
Alice tried her best but at 18 months old there is not much a little person can do in the way of running in the deep snow when they have been zipped into an airtight snow suit.
It seemed only right to switch to toboganning in the backyard since Fox and Geese wasn't a big hit. Richard grabbed the plastic top of a large square container, tied a rope to one end of it, and then put Michael on the make-believe sleigh and pulled him around the fox and geese track.
Alice waited for her turn and so the winter morning went -- Richard and I getting a lot of exercise. The kids merely watching or getting rides.
What is wrong with this picture?
Arta
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