If you haven't spent the last few decades in Minnesota, you wouldn't understand the significance of the following, "54 degrees on January 5th."

Axel and I knew the magnitude of yesterdays forecast and immediately took to the parks.  Because our favorite playground is closed due to the inclement weather of our typical winters, we parked outside the chains and high-tailed it inside for a private winter oasis.

The sky was a lovely shade of spring, the faux-grass was evergreen, and our jackets were unzipped.  What a ball we had!

Will we pay for this untimely weather, say in a few months?  Will April snow-showers delay May flowers?  Who knows.  For now we'll air out the house mid-winter and keep our fingers crossed for more of the same.

While the rest of the week is predicted to bring similar meteorological beauty, we may just be sneaking into a park near you!

Happy winter.

When you have a child who lives by his own traditions, little things like "first day of school" don't mean much to him.  When lining Axel up to take his photo, backpack on, in the driveway, like generations have done before him, his only request was, "I'll take my own picture."

Straightening up, grinning enormously, he stretched his little arms out in front of him and with a very adult camera, snapped the perfectly centered self-portrait.

Making one hilarious moment into a "pee your pants moment," Axel subsequently took a picture of both Jahred and I...on his first day of school.  Fair is fair.  So here we are. 

"Oh that turned out good," Axel says about each of the photos.

When we arrived at his classroom, Axel dropped his bag at the door and ran inside.  First, wanting to see if that fish had been flushed (see previous blog post) and second to break-in a fresh batch of playdoh.

So I thought I'd reserve my comments on our new roommate until things settled in to a regular routine.  If you need catch up, my brother Tyler has moved in while he goes to Saint Cloud State University.  As far as I can tell, a well-put-together teenager is a breath of fresh air compared to my all-or-nothing three-year-old.  Sadly I have nothing dramatic to report.

There was a bit of drama however last night during the "off to school night" at Axels new preschool.  One of the tasks on our "get to know your classroom" scavenger hunt was to think of a name for the class fish.  Being the first people in the classroom, I happened to notice that the Beta fish wasn't presenting in prime shape.  In fact, I was 100% sure that he was 100% dead.  Immediately I alerted the teacher in order to spare the nearly 30 preschoolers the pain of naming an expired fish.  The teacher, brushing me off said, "I'm sure he's fine, I just picked him up this morning." 

Axel honed in on the dead fish immediately.  "He's stuck," and ultimately, "I think that fish died."  Quickly I diverted his attention to the Lego table in hopes that he wouldn't be the spoiler...the "there is no Santa Claus" kid.

The kids came up with plenty of names for the fish, some of them endearing and some of them after themselves.  Kids are hilarious that way.  Jahred and I wrote Axels selection on the sheet just to give the teacher a chuckle at the burial, surely to follow the chaos of the open house.  We thought his name should be "Flush."

Hopefully when the kids show up next Wednesday for their first official day, Flush will be looking dapper in a bright shade of purple, at least I hope one of his relatives from the pet store shows up.

Today after buying a few school supplies we took ourselves out to a deli to celebrate the upcoming school year.  Have we finally found our "go to place" in our new hometown?  I'm thinking so.

Now that's a deli sandwich.  For the record, Jahred was only able to eat part of it.

My vegetarian pita.  It was even more delicious than it looks.

This weekend, Axel and I were witness to a pair of "I Do's."  While most of us don't fall in love on the average day, if you are Axel, you fall in love EVERY DAY!  At this beautiful outdoor wedding, Axel fell hard for his shadow.  Then he roared at it.

Do you know what rhymes with third?  Turd!  Of course if you've spent any time with my three-year-old, you'd know that he affectionately refers to any animal droppings (including his own) by the T word.  While I used to be completely grossed out by his early use of the thesaurus, I've gotten over it.  This morning, not even seconds after opening his eyes, Axel asked me a brilliant question, "Mom, how do snakes go turds?"

Because I completely missed my own third blogiversary I decided to mark the occasion today with a round of thrift-store shopping and lunch with my favorite date, Axel.  We successfully raided a brand new thrift store leaving with a bean-bag chair, lamp, pair of pants for me and as luck would have it, a snake!

Following our exhausting scavenger hunt for bargains, we hit a 50's diner for a few refreshments.

***

Now, to mark the occasion of three years worth of self publishing I'd like to make my first ever political statement.

I cannot stand politics!  For the forth week in a row, my column has been bumped from the local paper due to several  loud-mouths who feel the need to voice their extremely right-wing opinions on various political subjects.  What is it about people that just can't keep their mouths shut?

Don't we as Americans get our say when it comes to the poles?  We do our job by voting people into office to do their job.  If everyone was supposed to be represented individually, don't you think Barack Obama would invite us all to D.C. to participate in congressional votes and serve cupcakes afterwards?  Why do people feel the need to take up valuable media time and priceless space in the local paper trying to tell elected officials how to do their job?  If someone shouted at me from the curb in front of my house everyday how to run my home, be a mother and scrub my toilet I would be thoroughly pissed.

Seriously, when you vote in an election you agree to the following: first of all, you agree by voting that it won't necessarily come out your way, but you are simply imputing your opinion into who is elected.  It's the pact you make by showing up to vote.  Secondly, when you vote, you are signing over responsibility to the elected party for the term that is pre-determined.  Whether two years or four, your vote gives them the authority for the duration of the term, NOT until "you feel you no longer agree with them."

For my final word on the subject I'd like to challenge the media to say NOTHING about the economy or anything political for six months.  If it were so terrible to live here why would people still be flocking in from around the world?  To the general population, this sensationalized state of affairs in Washington and at the stock exchange isn't such a "dooms day" situation.  If everyone would choose to live the lives they dream of, and stay within their means, we'd all be just fine.

There you have it, my soap box opinion on politics, three years into my public life.  Maybe we should all be a little more curious about where turds come from and other whimsical subjects, while being less bombarded about radical opinions on age-old debates.

To celebrate the end of summer camps, the parks and rec department threw a carnival this afternoon.

Axel was truly ready to celebrate the end of sports sampler/bane of his existence, until this week when reading camp arrived.

Since I was checked out for the beginning of the week at Sundara Spa (sorry no pics because cameras weren't allowed), Jahred was sending rave reviews of Axel's fourth attempt at camp.

Returning to civilization just in time for the "Three Little Pigs," put on by the avid readers, I was thrilled that he truly enjoyed being with other kids for perhaps the first time in his pre-school life.

Axel and I savored the carnival, and I caught the first glimpse of him being excited about school.

Hooray!

I've been shamelessly enjoying the Minnesota summer this weekend and lapping up all the visual stimulation my eyes will take.

We started yesterday at a triathlon, trying to catch a glimpse of Tyler speeding by on his bike, and then witnessed the beauty of a private lake where the scenery is simply paused for you to take it's picture.

Jahred, Axel and I have forged through crowds, brush and mosquitoes to cheer triumphantly at the finish line and to wade in the lily pads.

Simply wonderful.

Here's to hoping you all enjoyed the July sunshine.

"No, Axel, you cannot go in the lake with your clothes on."
"It's o.k Mom, I just had to get this lily pad."

Oh man!  And I thought we'd get a solid, rainy-night sleep last night.

As Jahred was putting Axel to bed, un-witnessed by me, there must have been some fooling around.  Something about spinning, twisting and a pull?

Minutes later we were bringing our writhing in pain little man to the ER with ice, his blanket and a whole lot of thanks for having "connections" at the local hospital.

Jahred's RN status, although great on it's own, gave us a "to the top of the list" pass above a full ER waiting room.  I felt a little guilty, but hey, he puts in his hours in that building.

Seriously, a great act by Axel.  He fooled four members of the medical staff into a believing his wrist was shattered.

While putting up a HUGE fit about having an x-ray taken, it seems that the broken joint was simply out of place and he managed to fling it back in, all on his own.  The result is a perfectly beautiful little image of one ready to grow arm.

I'm completely relieved that our first run to the ER ended in nothing but an exciting adventure for Axel, a little lost sleep for us and a few souvenirs for the road.

Being a family on the lamb means just one thing...little attachment to town, community or latitudinal coordinates.  This summer, knowing our move has more permanency than a snow fence, we've decided to take it all in!

On Saturday we were pleasantly surprised that our new home is just blocks from the famous Sartell Summerfest festivities.  (Insert cheering from people who refuse to drive/park at crowded events.)  I couldn't help myself from waking up before dawn, biking to a garage sale or two, and packing the stroller with parade essentials.  Among the gear was our under-used picnic blanket, three bottles of water and a plastic bag (for the candy of course).

Off we went, a bit early I admit, but what mother doesn't wish to procure the perfect curbside location for her toddler to witness Minnesota tradition?  I like to think other places in the world experience parades, but in Minnesota they're special; limited amount of decent weather in which to spectate them, and attending a parade could give you your first sunburn of the year.  Sunburn equals a bit of a swagger for the normally ghost-like complected.

What a parade it turned out to be!  I had no idea that such a small river town could produce 77 floats and nearly two hours of candy throwing action.  Axel was digging it.  Like every parade goer, Axel had to decide for himself which floats were worthy of a wave, a clap or an ear cover.

Police and Fire = definite wave
Flags = a darling hand over heart
Go-Carts and Old Cars = tight ear cover
Anything Throwing Candy = no time for anything but running and grabbing

With a parade under our belts by noon, we headed south to the old homeland for one swimming session, one grad party and several cupcakes.  One sleepy and overstimulated kid met once again with the driveway around nine, only to stroll up to the fireworks which I think he would have slept through had it not been for the "cowboy cover band" which he found quite loud, but worth the trip to the front of the stage.  (Picture a jaw hanging open and a the only dance move he could muster, a head bob).

Whew, a day that started and ended with Sartell, with community and with becoming involved. 

I just have to share our experience at the Munsinger Clemens Botanical Gardens today.  We started the week out at 103 degrees, today is a nippy 50, and the splash pad just wasn't going to work.  Based on a friendly suggestion, we threw on our wind jackets and went in search of these beautiful grounds.

I'll just roll the pictures since words won't do.  I really feel like we stumbled upon a private oasis where surely we'll become regulars.

First rule of becoming an explorer . . . find a GREAT stick.

Axel must have "taken a rest" on every memorial bench.  Sweet.

 . . . and then we found the upper gardens.  Although I begged, he simply wasn't going to turn around for the camera.  One word . . . FOUNTAINS!

Constant AWE!

Missing a photo opportunity with this duck . . .

 . . . I convinced him that a more subtle approach to duck photography is best (notice the mallard in the background).

Unbelievable.