Skerls and such

What better way to welcome a new day than with an early morning story from Grandmommy.

Lady and the Tramp (and Baby Dumbo, who is never more than five feet from his Mommy).

This afternoon around naptime, I heard Rose from the back yard calling me. It wasn't a cry of distress, so I took my time, finishing my lunch over my latest good read.  It must have been ten minutes before she came inside, still saying the same words: "Mommy! Skerl!" It didn't register until I put her down for her nap (and changed her damp shirt) that maybe I should go check the backyard. My stomach turned as I witnessed Rose's source of angst: in our little kiddie pool floated... a dead chipmunk (or "skerl" as Rose put it). Ewwww. Poor little guy. It took quelling everything in my nature to bury the dead little creature (Dave, you're off the hook- I know you're shocked). Rose watched as I buried him asking, "Where is it? He can't get out." Indeed. A word of warning to green-thumb Grandmommy: the grave is behind the azalea near the shed.

We're so enjoying this breezy autumnal weather. The girls continue to be enthusiastic about school (especially ice cream Wednesdays and pizza Fridays), and Frankie will go to her first birthday party of a classmate this weekend.  Dave will conduct an important townhall-style meeting (the first of its kind) at our parish this Friday night- so please keep that in your prayers. We're hoping it doesn't turn out like this. Dave, Hilary and I are excited to attend the diocesan Risk Jesus conference this Saturday where a wonderful blogger we follow will be speaking, along with a holy priest who's a family friend. Thanks, Grandmommy and Pop Pop, for watching the nine grandchildren while we're there. Happy Wednesday!