Bunny school

We're about eight weeks into school.

That's long enough for everyone to have decided which subjects they like and which ones they don't. 


Caleb's favorite thing ever--apart from Buck--is Ziggy the zebra puppet.  Ziggy comes out to help Caleb learn his letter sounds, and he is a huge hit. 

One day after the Ziggy lesson, while I had moved on to teach Lizzy, Caleb reanimated Ziggy right in Buck's face.  "I'm fuzzy.  You're fuzzy.  It's a fuzzy party!"

Caleb tells me he (Caleb) is a good "bunny take-care-of-er guy."


It's a good thing Buck is so good-natured.

Though he does sometimes resort to hiding in the trash can.

Alternately, sometimes he stands on his tiptoes, steals crumpled papers from the trash can, and runs (hops) away with it, to chew it up in the corner.

Jason and I have been tickled to death planning an international getaway in honor of our upcoming fifteenth anniversary.  Earlier this month we trekked into town to get our passports, which, hopefully, will be the worst part of the experience, other than the flight. 


We paid $10 each to have a photo taken that could easily pass for a mugshot of a corpse.  Then we paid a few hundred dollars to have said photos sent far, far away. 


Sadly, they will return to us in the form of legal passports (hopefully).  At least we don't have to look at them; we just have to show them to border agents, who will undoubtedly scratch their heads and wonder why we don't look like criminal zombies in real life.

To add some challenge to my life, I volunteered to teach fourth-grade Sunday school this year.  I had intended to teach 4-year-olds, but that class was already claimed--as was preschool, kindergarten, first grade and second grade.  And I've heard enough about the third-grade class that I chose fourth.

So we're in a learning curve together, the fourth-graders and me.  They could hardly be a sweeter group of kids, and I'm thinking maybe by May I'll figure out what I'm doing.

Other than that and the ridiculous amounts of rain that have fallen continuously since May, things are pretty much the same as always.  School, dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, repeat.  

I still run in the mornings; a shot of endorphins works better than coffee to get you going.  Added bonus if you get a shot of terror-induced adrenaline from walking out the back where Shelob has woven her web as tall as I am somewhere across the steps Every Single Morning.  

Thank God for the recent wet weather, which makes the web visible, along with the spider's thick fur and every single one of its many legs.  

At eye height.  

First thing in the morning.