A gardening post.

Since it's finally winter down in southern Florida, we've gotten around to finally planting our garden!

The overview of the garden:

Beans!:

Cucumber:

A really close view of a marigold:

More beans:

That same day, some family came to help us build Squeaky a new sandbox (one that will fit his new digger!:

Dad (the dude with the glasses) and Uncle Alex figuring something out:

From left to right: Poppy, Uncle Alex, Mamma, Bubbie, Aunt Nancy, Squeaky dearest (you can kinda/sorta see his head there, and Dad:

The plants that grew under our old Tuggy sandbox:

Dad, screwing two ends together:

Our photogenic puppy, Star:

The aformentioned Tuggy, filled with water:

A post about milk and butter

Disclaimer: I am not trying to force you to change your dietary habits. I'm an opinionated person when it comes to food; but I understand that every body eats what they feel is right for them. I, however, enjoy raw dairy products and meat that has been humanly killed after living a good life.


First off, our milk. My friend (let's call her Shoes) has decided that all milk looks the same. And so does butter. I, however, am going to prove her wrong.

First, two milks side by side. One is raw from a farm in Live Oak, FL, and the other is also raw, from FL, bought at Whole Foods (ask for it special, if you want to buy it). Look at the difference!







Now our butters: One is raw from the amazing farm in Live Oak, and the other is a very good brand from Whole Foods. Again, the raw one is a rich, golden color--while the good brand from a store is much, much paler.









Okay, I'm really hungry now. :P

It's Super Marker Man!!

My little brother Squeak is home from school today. Why? He sounds like a chain-smoker and looks as though he is wearing bright red eye-liner. If that doesn't mean sick, what else does?

He's got two birthday parties for classmates in a few days--so it was time to have him draw them cards. I slap down a package of markers, find some non-scribbled on paper, and kiss him on the head.

"Have fun, Squeaky!" I say, ambling out of the kitchen to plop my tush down and read through some emails. About five minutes later, Super Marker Man bounces in.

By Super Marker Man, I mean Squeak. The six year old. With marker scribbles all over himself. All I can think is WHY?!

So I usher him to the bathroom ("DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!") and wipe him down with an old rag. The rag is now multi-chromatic, but the boy, thank goodness, is not!

He's Squeaky clean!

Ah, I've gotta love him!

And yay, there is fun stuff in store for the bored homeschooler today! Time for a trip to the supermarket! YAHOO! <--sarcasm.