Please meet Owl

This is Owl.
He's a member of the Plasticus Scary-to-Rodentae genus and species. There were two of these on the deck of our beach house last summer and it was love at first sight for Reese. She insisted on telling them both good morning and good night. A few days after we got home, she and Brett went to Lowe's to pick up something and what do you think Reese spotted? Owl. He is now a permanent resident of our outdoor toy chest. Don't worry, though, he doesn't stay there. He comes out to play.
He swings.
He slides (rather quickly down the plastic slide, I might add).
Not sure what he's doing here...supervising?
Just in case you were wondering, when he doesn't get put away in his box he tends to get left sitting on the outdoor table...staring into the window...where I see him looking at me when I don't expect it. Spooky.


To follow up from the previous post...yes, every single one of the eggs in that carton was a double yolk.

Cholesterol for everyone!

I broke my first double-yolk egg last weekend! Good luck? One would hope! Then I broke my second. And my third. And my fourth. Odd. I am usually proud to trumpet the "hormone free"/"free range"/"cage free/"verging on vegan without actually making that commitment" benefits of shopping at Trader Joe's. This time, however, Brett and I are raising our collective eyebrows at the fact that the first four of our latest dozen eggs purchased there have ALL been double-yolks.

If we don't die of heart attacks, we will follow up when we find out if the remaining eight eggs were also laid by She-Ra, the A-Rod of chickens.
Egg #3
Egg #4 (not quite as pretty but you get the idea)

More Pet Peeves

Cigarette Litterers: one of these days I'm going to run my mouth to the wrong person and get decked. What gives you the idea that you have the right to throw your slobbery, germ infested, stinky, still smoldering cigarette butt anywhere you choose?
People with one child who use two-seater grocery carts: you know who you are. You're the person who walks by me with your kid sitting in both sides of one of the three available two-kid carts at our Harris Teeter while I'm trying to wrestle the carton of eggs out of the hands of the one child of mine who is now forced to sit in the food section of my regular cart. You're probably also the one writing a check in the self-checkout lane.
Single drivers who park at the Y: invariably, the people who get the prime (ie- not 100 yards from the door) parking spots at the Y are single men. Are they toting children with them? No. Do they see the dozens of moms struggling to schlep two+ children in ballet costumes or leotards in from the West Texas section of the parking lot (often while it's 30 degrees outside)? Yes. Do they change their behavior? No. Are they forever driving monster trucks (do you really need a Hummer to tackle the rough terrain of South Charlotte?). Of course.

OK. I'm done with my judgemental, entitlement-laden post for the day.