Sunday, September 6, 2015

Sunday of Labor Day weekend.

Jeremy and I got into an argument earlier this week about the state of our garden.  Technically speaking, we do divvy up the chores in the opposite traditional gendered way where I do a lot of the yard / house stuff and Jeremy does all the kitchen / cooking stuff.  But I think a neutral party would say that he does a better job at his stuff than I do at my stuff.  I try!  I try!  But the yard just keeps growing.  You leave it alone and it morphs into a beast with tentacles and then I bow down in defeat until winter comes.  Then I feel triumph and relief.  I bring this up only because we were invited to our next-door-neighbor's kid's 1st birthday party and the way between the two houses looked like:

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If I won a bazillion dollars in the lottery, the very first thing I would do would be to hire a gardener.

A one-year-old's birthday party is not really our demographic anymore, but Vince still seemed to enjoy the ball pit.

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Edda napped in our folding chair and then woke up to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

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Here's the birthday boy and a beautiful picture of his mother's tattoo which I am fond of.  I don't love many tattoos, but hers somehow I feel the slightest pull in my heart towards - California poppies.  

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