The other day, Anne-with-an-e came running upstairs, holding onto Blanche the Hamster, quite upset. Anne had just rescued poor little Blanche from the mouth -- yes, she pulled the hamster right out of the mouth -- of this guy:
Apparently, he was planning to enjoy his snack away from prying eyes (and hands) as he had not yet chomped down. We're so happy Anne spotted him en route to his picnic.
The temps are below zero here. Again. I know ... it's Nebraska. It's winter. I know. I should expect it to be cold. I'm a little tired of it being so cold, though. However, I am feeling grateful for the not-so-little details of my life: at least I'm not twisting and burning hay to stay warm, as Laura Ingalls did. Thank you, God, for furnaces, and hot water and warm clothes and hot meals.
Tonight, Ramona said, "Mommy, I love you more than I can type!" Aaahhh ... a true blogger's daughter.
Upon surveying a print of Nighthawks that hangs in in our stairway, Ramona began to narrate:
"The guy in the hat is saying, 'Darn! I forgot my spy gear.' And, 'Why do I always get the odd people?' says the guy behind the counter."