Great. There's a Bear in My Backyard.

My 11-year-old was sitting in the family room when a black bear ambled past the windows. He literally sauntered on by.That bear took his ever-loving sweet time strolling behind our house. In fact, he stopped and peered in at my daughter, who was stretched out on the couch, reading the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy that she just checked out from the library.

You might think a young girl would run out of the room, screaming for her mother to save her. My Alaskan kid didn't even bother rolling off the sofa. She just hollered, "Mom! You better get your camera! There's a black bear looking in the window!" and went back to her book. I guess Katniss and her killing games make a bear looking through the window seem tame.

By the time I entered the room, fumbling with my camera, the big fur ball had already moved past the house into the backyard. So, here's a picture of his rear-end. You're welcome.

He headed up the path to the treehouse, and walked by the area where the kids jump onto their zipline.

Needless to say, the girls won't be allowed to play outside today. Unless they take their bows and arrows.



Dinner last night: burgers on the barbie

Exactly three years ago:

Friday's Five: Dianna

Exactly four years ago:

Uh-Oh

Housework Can Wait

Two of my kids are feeling poorly. The eldest had to go on antibiotics for her infected throat. I'm letting her camp out in the recliner chair, with her favorite blanket and video game. She plays a little Halo then naps . . . a bit more Halo then another nap . . . another round of Halo followed by another nap.

My youngest daughter caught a cold, and just needs lots of liquids and rest. She sleeps best on my lap, evidently. I don't mind.

Dinner last night: pork chops, potato casserole

For Her Own Good

We own a beagle. According to the experts, her sense of smell is around 10,000 times more developed than a human's and is superior to most other breeds of dog. This highly-sensitive nose tempts our Daisy-doodle to leave the yard and go running all over the neighborhood looking for tasty treats hiding in garbage cans, although a sandwich in the hand of a toddler will suffice. She is not averse to jumping into the back of an open station wagon while the owner is unloading purchases, grabbing the handles of a grocery bag in her mouth, and dragging it home to enjoy its contents in her favorite spot under the spruce tree.

We finally broke down and ordered an invisible fence. Whenever she plays outside, Daisy must now wear a special collar that beeps when she ventures too close to the edge of our property. She can still stand at the top of the hill and bark imperiously at all the passers-by on the road below; she just can't sneak off on Wednesday mornings to inspect the overflowing cans of trash set out at the ends of driveways for the garbage truck.

Daisy is confused by the new restriction,

but our neighbors are ecstatic.

Dinner last night: chicken dipped in ranch and rolled in panko, pasta

Exactly three years ago:

Friday's Five: Jen

Exactly four years ago:

Dirty Details

Hint of the Summer to Come

The twins received a big box of sidewalk chalk from their Grandma. You get three guesses to figure out what the girls did all weekend . . .

In case you haven't earned a degree in Art Appreciation, 

the genius works of art pictured above

depict colorful SWORDS in various shapes and sizes.

Dinner last night: steak, baked potato

Exactly two years ago:

Summertime . . . and the Livin's Easy

Exactly three years ago:

Epic Playground Fail

Exactly four years ago:

How Does a Busy Woman Cook Every Night?

You Can't Pronounce Cake Without Ache

May is a month of chaos around our house. Not only is school wrapping up, with all of its end-of-the-year activities, but my husband and three of our children celebrate birthdays throughout May . . . that's FOUR BIRTHDAYS I have to remember this month.

B is for Baking a special cake for each family member. I may or may not also bake a nice chocolate sheet cake for myself, which I may or may not shovel into my face while hiding in the closet under the stairs, while my children may or may not run barefoot and messy-haired throughout the house screaming, Mommy! Mommy! Where are you?

I is for Insomnia, a condition caused by staring at my alarm clock at 4:00 in the morning as I worry about how many cakes I have to bake.

R is for Rainbow Chip Cake Mix. That's right, I admit it. I don't always bake from scratch. Because of the colorful sprinkles pictured on the front of the box, my children beg for a package of cakelike powder created in a laboratory somewhere. A pox on you, Betty Crocker. Or perhaps I mean to say, THANK YOU.

T is for Taurus, the sign of the bull. I deal with May babies, the most stubborn people living under the influence of the astrological horoscope. They want their cake and they want it now.

H is for Hang On, Kim . . . once I get through this month, no more birthdays until February. My own June birthday does not count, because even if anyone bothers to remember it, everyone's sick of cake by then.

D is for Downton Abbey, sitting unwatched in its DVD case upon my nightstand. I checked out season 2 from the library, but don't have time to watch it right now. I guess that's what overdue fines are for. And chocolate cake.

A is for Advil. Use it, but don't abuse it.

Y is for You Only Go Through Life Once . . . quit complaining and enjoy the cake-filled journey.



Dinner last night: flank-steak-and-stuffing spirals, green salad

Exactly two years ago:

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Exactly three years ago:

More Infectious than Swine Flu

Exactly four years ago:

A Perfect Storm

Freeze-Frame Frolic

The dogs love nothing more than to play outside in the sunshine. Well, they might prefer chewing on a meaty bone. Now that I think of it, they rather fancy a nice, long nap on the couch. Okay, they love many things more than playing outside in the sunshine, but they do enjoy an occasional romp around the yard.

Our pleasingly plump beagle, Daisy, amuses herself by deflating one of the kids' toys.

Lupine is four months old and a feisty little thing. She is quite talented at attacking snow.

She also ambushes shoes, shadows, and bits of paper.

Watch out, Daisy. Lupine's coming for you next.

Dinner last night: cheeseburgers

Exactly one year ago:

Patience, Patience

Exactly two years ago:

Gearing Up for Summer

Exactly three years ago:

Spring Cleaning

Ignored by My Children and Moose

If you are moosephobic, this site is not for you. Far too many photos of moose are posted. Wait a minute. I do not like moose, and this is my blog. So why do I continue photographing moose? And then publishing the pictures? I am a moosephobic hypocrite. Or am I a hypocritical moosephobe? Whatever the scientific terminology, I have a problem with moose.

Look, Mommy! It's another moose.

Yeah, yeah. Go inside and wash your face, please.

And you! Hey, YOU!

That's right, I'm talking to you. Get out of here!

Okay, you can eat one more twig. And then get out of here! I mean it this time.

Dinner last night: white chili, cornbread

Bits and Pieces of Spring

We still have some snow, but we can see grass. It may be soggy and brown, but hey, IT'S GRASS.

We've raked up all the detritus that's collected in the front yard over the winter,

and we're burning it in small batches.

Kathy G asked the other day about daffodils. Well, they're finally poking through!

If you look closely, 

you can see buds on the lilac in front of my kitchen window.

A sense of warmth is tapping at the door;
And hope, a feeling out from distant lore
—Or so it seems—clears the deep refrain!

—Mark R. Slaughter

Dinner last night: spaghetti and meatballs

Exactly one year ago:

Please, Sir, I want Some More . . . 

Exactly four years ago:

Mud Puddle Fun