Half full: The girls snuggled into bed with me Saturday morning after Chas had gone to work.
Half empty: There was snarling, at least one crying jag, and plenty of shouting over who had to sleep in the middle. Also, the girls complained about it.
Half full: We went to Family Garden Day at the girls' school.
Half empty: The flier explaining that Family Garden Day was all about manual labor was never given to Mommy, who thought it was an open house viewing of the plantings. A white turtleneck was a bad idea.
Half full: The weather was perfect to be out in the garden.
Half empty: The weather was perfect to be out in MY garden, which currently resembles Sleeping Beauty's protective layer of thorns.
Half full: I had a cup of hot coffee while I weeded the onion planter and visited with a nice father and grandfather I'd just met.
Half empty: I weeded the onion planter on my knees and on my feet and both times I was in a red anthill.
(Photo stolen from Uncle Kick-Kick on Flickr)
Half full: The girls made their own seed cups out of newspaper, and planted flower seeds.
Half empty: What else can I kill on my window sill?
Half full: We had a picnic with Grandma up at Black Butte Lake on Sunday.
Half empty: The wind, which had tried desperately to kill us the week before, was back for another go-round.
Half full: Grandma brought her kite in anticipation of wind.
Half empty: The surest way to stop the wind from blowing is to present a kite.
(Photo stolen from Studio One-One on Flickr)
Half full: I spent the weekend doing ordinary things with people I love terribly, across several generations.
Half empty: There is no half empty.
(Photo stolen from this guy)