Our Little Miss Piggy

Dave, Morgen and me before Rob and Kelly's wedding August 1995

After Dave and I met in Guatemala (HERE'S the link to that story), we sailed Morgenstern (well, Dave sailed the boat, and I just tried to keep from puking - my job was harder than his, I assure you) back to Miami via Mexico and Cuba. We had to ask the Cuban immigration officials not to stamp our passports, as in, "If anyone asks, we were never here." I felt like a renegade. It was awesome. But that's another post all together. Anyway, in Miami, we were greeted by an oh-so-happy-to-see-us Bill and Connie (Dave's dad and his long time girlfriend). Dave had been sailing for 9 months in Central America and I had been traveling for 4 months. It was so delightful to be back in the good ol' U.S. of A. and to have our very own welcome party waiting for us right there on the dock. (Thanks for being there, guys. We love you!). After spending a week or so putting the boat back together Dave and I decided that we weren't ready for the party to end. So we decided to buy an old beater of a vehicle and drive back to California. Upon hearing our plan, Bill generously gifted us his Buick Sedan as he had recently upgraded to something fancier. We were stoked! (And I'm pretty sure I haven't used the word "stoked" since the 90's.) So we loaded our vehicle with all of our salty, worldly belongings which included 3 pairs of cut off jeans, our groovy, matching, tire-tread Huarache sandals imported from Isla Mujeres, Mexico, and maybe four Caballero condoms imported from Fronteras, Guatemala - btw, don't use those, they can't be trusted. (No, that's not how Cole was conceived, thankyouverymuch.) We slapped a bumper sticker on our jalopy that read "Places to Go, People to Annoy" (courtesy of the oneandonly Mark Weiss, great friend and owner of Morgenstern) and we were on our way.

We spent the next four weeks cruisin' in our land yacht, popping in and inconveniencing friends all across the states. Just kidding, I'm sure they were glad to see us and our salty cut-offs. It was a magical time in our lives. We drove and talked and drove and talked some more. For four weeks straight we took in the sights of our beautiful country and told each other things about ourselves that we never thought we'd share with anyone. We slept curled up in the back seat of our hooptie, parked at Rest Areas and deserted country roads along the way. Stinkin' romantic, that's what it was. And we fell in love. By the time we got to Montana, it was a done deal. We were hooked on each other. And we decided to get a dog; a puppy. Now, technically, Dave decided to get a dog as I was scheduled to reinstate my acceptance to Sonoma State University in the fall (which I had deferred for a year).

So we left Montana on a mission to adopt ourselves a puppy. It was a Sunday and although we past an animal shelter in every town between Cameron, Montana and Salt Lake City, Utah they were all closed on Sundays. I think it may have been in Pocatello, Idaho where we chanced upon a flier, just under the CLOSED sign at the Humane Society. It said there would be an Adoption Day this Sunday (indeed, it was said Sunday) at the local Petsmart. So we rushed our little highnies on over to the Petsmart only to be turned away by a mean spirited lady who wrinkled her nose at us (and our cut-offs) and told us we were unfit dog parents because we didn't have a home with a yard. Indeed, we didn't have a home at all, unless you count our land yacht (which, of course, we did). Besides, what we lacked in yard we made up for in heart. Couldn't she tell by all the love oozing from our pores that we were the perfect doggie parents? Our best efforts to change her mind failed miserably. So we tucked our tails between our legs and left that Petsmart feeling rather dejected and suddenly, rather homeless.

We pressed on towards Salt Lake, thinking that maybe a bigger town would have an animal shelter open on Sundays. Once in Salt Lake we pulled off the highway into a commercial area in search of a pay phone with Yellow Pages (remember those - attached with a metal cord?). We found one at a 7-11. As Dave thumbed through the Yellow Pages, my eyes were drawn to a piece of newspaper littering the sidewalk beneath the payphone. I picked it up and noticed it was a torn section of the Want Ads. As I scanned the paper, I saw an ad that read something like this:

Six week old puppies. German Shorthair/Black Lab mix. First shots received. $10.

My heart smiled as I handed the shredded paper to Dave. Less than two minutes later we had called the number and were on our way to meet our new puppy.

It was so hard to choose just one, but we finally settled on a squirmy, rowdy little female with soft, puffy fur and a chubby, buddha belly. She was so cute. When you would reach down to pat her fluffy coat she would instantly fall onto her back to get a belly scratch, kicking her feet in the air and wiggling from side to side. We immediately started referring to her as Little Miss Piggy because she was so fat and sassy. As Dave reached into his wallet for $10, the lady told us there was actually no charge; something about having to put a dollar value in her ad in order for it to be placed in the Classifieds. That seemed like good luck. I asked her when the litter was born. (I had every intention of throwing birthday parties, you know. Plus, I wanted to know her sign. Just kidding.) She couldn't remember exactly but said that it was right around May 18th, the day Dave and I had met. Cheesy, I know, but it seemed special to us at the time.

Me and Morgen - Salt Lake City, June 1995

Piggy cuddling with Dave in our Buick on the way to California.

Isn't it time for a walk? Maybe some tug-o-war?

With our new puppy safely tucked between us on the front bench seat of our trusty Buick, we left Salt Lake City, continuing on the road towards what would become our new life together. We would name our puppy Morgen which means morning in German (shorthair) and also paid tribute to Morgenstern which we felt indebted to for having housed us during our first weeks together. But she would never outgrow her nickname of Piggy, short for Little Miss Piggy, of course. I would bail on Sonoma State, we would get married, have a family, buy a house and start a life. And Morgen was with us every step of the way. Until today.

She died yesterday, here at the house with Dave and me cradling her face in our hands and telling her how much we loved her. We sent her on her way, whispering memories of Montana in her ear, consoling her as she made her transition. We like to imagine her with a healthy body loping through the high mountain grass flushing out birds and then pointing at them as they take to the air. Or swimming after sticks as they float down the Madison on their way to the ocean. Or barking impatiently, waiting for 2-year-old Cole to throw another rock into the West Fork so she can dive in and retrieve it. Or greeting another newborn, or playing fetch at the park, or wrestling with Pete (our lost cat), or napping in the sun-filled garden, or peeing on the floor because she is so excited to see us, home from a long trip.

Piggy loved a road trip. The longer the better.

Click to appreciate the stylin' cut-offs. You know you had a pair...or wished you did.

Piggy checking on me and Cole - 2 days old.

The story of Morgen is the story of us and we feel the void of her loss so painfully in our home and our hearts and our story. It's the end of a chapter. A wonderful chapter.

We love you, Piggy. Get the stick, Piggy. Good Piggy.

Morgen in Montana - summer 1996

Pictures of Peru

An early morning in San Francisco. Peru or bust. Ready or not, here I go.

View of the Andes from the airplane on the way from Lima to Cusco.
P.S. The in country flights on LAN airlines were perfectly comfortable and not at all the single prop aircraft I had envisioned in my nightmares. I would guess 737 airbuses? I was delighted.

Here we are, Ellen and me, on our first day checking out Cusco. What a beautiful Spanish colonial city with lots of Catholic churches built atop Incan temples. The Spanish were shameless that way. You can see behind us the Catholic monastery in the background and the gray ruins of the Incan Sun Temple in front of it.

This is coca tea. Coca tea is drinken (drunk?) all over Peru to stave off altitude sickness. Cusco is at an elevation of almost 12,000 feet above sea level. Coca leaves are from the Coca plant which is used to make cocaine, Lidocaine, Novocaine, and is an ingredient in, believe it or not, Coca-cola. But it sure did the trick against altitude sickness. We had our cup of coca tea every day (with a generous spoonful of sugar) and we were symptom free the whole week.

Here we are on our way to the market in Pisac. Ellen and I met 14 years ago in Costa Rica whilst studying Spanish. We then traveled all over Costa Rica and Guatemala where I subsequently met my darling husband. I hadn't seen her in 13 years and had only been halfway diligent about keeping in touch until we were reacquainted thanks to Facebook.

A woman selling yarn dyes in the Pisac market outside of Cusco. Market pictures are my favorite.

We loved our afternoon cappuccino and cafe con leche. Jack's in Cusco served up an especially beautiful display.

This dog and his pet monkey were quite a darling sight in Ollantaytambo. Apparently, they are inseparable and the monkey even holds on for dear life while his master is....shall we say....indisposed.

Ellen and I thought this mountain at the Incan ruins in Ollantaytambo looked just like the profile of an Incan warrior.

Our day at Machu Picchu was mystical even though it was rainy and foggy making the mountain views significantly less dramatic then they can be. We felt a little sorry for ourselves (but only a little) until we found out that the next day the park was closed because the professional guides were on strike.

Orchids growing wild at Machu Picchu.

We hiked up Hauyna Picchu which is a small mountain within Machu Picchu with even more ruins and stunning views of the ancient city below. It was very foggy almost the whole climb up but right when we got to the top, the fog cleared for just a moment affording a fabulous view of Machu Picchu. In the picture above you can see the river far, far below the steps that I am standing on. It was hairy. And amazing to think that these hardworking people had carried each and every stone up that mountain to build their city in the sky.

Another wild orchid at Machu Picchu.

See that mountain rising from the mist in the background? That's Huayna Picchu. We climbed to the top of that peak. We were pretty proud of ourselves.

The food in Peru, particularly in Cusco was so surprisingly and unbelievably good. This is a shrimp salad with grilled mushrooms, grated coconut, seasoned tomatoes, and an amazing mango vinaigrette. With the unbeatable prices for gourmet dining, Ellen and I fancied ourselves food critiques for the week. We tried all of the country's specialties including Alpaca steak, fresh ceviche, lomo saltado (like a beef stir fry), sopa de quinoa (did you know quinoa originated in Peru and is a staple grain here?), sopa criolla, and the Peruvian favorite, cuy (guinea pig). We had a hard time stomaching the cuy although it was plenty tasty (like the dark meat of a chicken) so we had our plate wrapped up and gave it to a woman begging on the street. We found that far more enjoyable than the meal itself.

If you click to make this picture bigger you can see the heard of rare Vicunas at a watering hole behind me. Not long after Ellen took this picture, the alpha male of the herd came and ordered his brood away from our offensive looking tour bus. Then he jumped up on a boulder between us and his herd and gave us "stink eye" until we left. The snow capped mountain in the background is, El Misti, an active volcano outside of Arequipa.

This mountain top "facility", at almost 15,ooo feet above sea level, is little more than a hole in the ground with crisscrossing boards for "balancing". Oh, and, BTW, it's strictly BYOTP.

We took a two day/one night guided tour to the Colca Canyon from Arequipa. The Colca Canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and is the home to some 50 giant condors. We were lucky with the weather and were able to observe at least 15 of the graceful (if not somewhat ugly) birds riding the thermal currents in the canyon.

Click to fully appreciate the condor "cuteness". This condor had a 10-12 foot wing span. Did you know condors live to be 100 years old? And then when they can no longer feed themselves (condors are scavengers) they crash themselves into the canyon wall ending their life before they starve to death. Whoa.

And just like that our week in Peru was over. The best part for me (aside from the amazing food) was having a week to get reacquainted with myself. Not me as a mom or me as a wife, but just me. And it was delightful to meet that person again after all these years.


P.S. Dave - You're an amazing husband to let me go have this adventure. I love you so much. Next time, let's go the two of us. ~H

Arrived safely!

Thanks for all of your wishes for safe travel. Ellen and I are at our hotel enjoying a Pisco Sour - the national drink of Peru. Thanks for checking in!

You May Remember...

...my dear friend Ellen from this post about the day that Dave and I met.  Ellen and I traveled to Guatemala together after meeting at language school and traveling all over Costa Rica. Well, Ellen sent me an email in February asking if I wanted to go to Peru with her to check out Machu Picchu and travel through Latin America like old times. I wrote back and said, "Yes, I do and thanks for asking. What are the dates?" As it turns out the dates were perfect and I chanced upon a screamin' deal from San Francisco to Lima for $425.  Dave gave me the green light and just like that, I'm going to Peru...leaving the day after tomorrow (Sunday). 

You really just can't pass up that kind of awesome opportunity...right??

This is what I've been trying to convince myself of for the last 3 weeks as I stare at the ceiling, not able to sleep, thinking to myself, "You have four kids! You can't go traipsing haphazardly around South America like you're 19 again! What are you thinking?!" Oh dear. 

We'll be flying on three small planes during the week and the thought of small aircraft in the Andean updrafts of South America has me a little sweaty (to say the least).  I actually came to the cheerful realization that if something happens to me at least Dave will be able to raise the kids. Honestly! Isn't that morbid? But, I was actually able to sleep after that. Uggh. The things we put ourselves through. 

Anyway, please send thoughts of safe travels my way over the next week or so. And maybe you can throw in a couple for Dave as he juggles lunches and laundry and baseball, oh my!

Check back for pics next week. 

Did I tell you...

...that we were taking the kids to see the Grandparents in Miami and cruising across the Gulf Stream to hang in the Bahamas for Spring Break? Well, we're here in Bimini having swam with the rays at Honeymoon Harbor yesterday. Hopefully, we'll get a chance to partake in the Junkanoo festivities before heading back on Sunday. Now before you go getting all envious on me just keep in mind that it's not all sunbathing and pina coladas. Imagine kids barfing across the Gulf Stream, generator on the fritz, flip flops overboard, a dead dinghy motor, oh, and eight people stuffed onto 42'. Don't get me wrong, we cherish every single opportunity we get to hang with the grandparents and to go boating with our kiddos, but just be reasonable before you think that the ocean is always bluer on the other side of the Gulf Stream (although, it really is).  See for yourself...

I could watch this man tie dock lines all day long.  Nothing sexier than a man in his element. Am I right?

Soli "snorkeling". 

"Even though I'm 12, I still love my dad."

"Someday I'm gonna tie dock lines just like my dad." And his wife will adore him for it... (Ugh. That was hard to type. I actually wrote it, deleted it, and then wrote it again. Someday he'll be married?! Alright, that's enough. Next pic...)

My little mermaid.

I'm pretty proud of this shot because, you see, I had to use the manual focus. Whoa! Big step for me! Watch out Flickr (they must have some great pics on that site because they can't spell for crap...).

We couldn't resist playing "Titanic" on this shipwreck off of Bimini's south shore.

Favorite After School Snack

Popcorn is one of our favorite after school snacks lately. And I'm totally into popping my own (you know I'm always striving for that elusive "Mom of the Year" Award - I may not be able to make my own Waldorf toys, but I can at least pop my own popcorn, right??). Besides, haven't you ever wondered what exactly is in those bags of microwaveable popcorn? You know, that greasy part that makes it so yummy? What is that?? I don't know...but, I tell ya, the more I learn to read labels the more of a food snob I'm becoming.

Anyway, popping your own popcorn is way fun and here's how you do it:

*in a skillet heat up 1-2 T of olive oil over med-med/high heat
*add 1/2 C popcorn kernels to hot skillet
*stir kernels coating them with oil and spreading them evenly in pan
*cover the pan with lid (important!) and agitate the pan with back and forth motion
*continue until all popcorn is popped
*season with any of the following: melted butter, sea salt, rosemary, trocomare or herbamare (excellent all natural seasonings with no weird stuff), parmesan, brewer's yeast (that's what my mom used to put on our popcorn when we were kids). Sometimes I use coconut oil instead of olive oil and season with a sugar/cinnamon mixture for a yummy, kettle corn flavor. Anything goes!

P.S. How fun is my new blog background?!

The Best Little Fishing Shack in Montana

For starters, let me just say that I was successful in getting a handle on my laundry. Key word: WAS. Because, the thing about laundry is: IT'S NEVER ENDING! So I had a handle on it, for like, 7...no...8 hours, and now it's totally out of hand again. But, this time it's really not that funny and the kids dumping out the basket to find...who knows what...not that cute. Honestly! If I wasn't so irreplaceable, I'd fire myself.

But enough about that.

Let's talk about our cabin on the Madison River in Montana. It's affectionately known as The Fishing Shack, and it's for rent, you know. Available now. Almost booked up for the busy summer months. Yippee! And for those of you who were with me during the building phase I wanted to post some pictures now that it's totally done. You know you wanna rent it...

A River Runs Through It. Imagine Brad Pitt out there with a fly rod in hand...

Almost all of the furniture (and decor) at the Fishing Shack came from a Craigslist ad out of Bozeman. A family was selling their second home and all of the furnishings that were in it. My darling husband, being the savvy businessman that he is, negotiated a smokin' price for EVERYTHING in the home. And I mean everything. Dining room furniture, bedroom furniture, living room furniture, linens, dishes, pots and pans, toilet paper, bikes, window treatments, washer and dryer, hangers, cleaning supplies, everything. He rented a Uhaul and packed it all up. They were out of state and couldn't have been happier to have the place emptied. Love Craigslist!

Cozy Kitchen

Master bedroom - I did buy all new bedding and towels, just for fun.

One of the two upstairs bedrooms. Dave made the log bunkbeds.

Looking down on the Living Room from the stairs. Check out the barnwood floors from the ceiling of an old Montana brothel - the Choteau House. If ceilings could talk...

Christmas 2008

*My Blog readers get a little discount: rent 6 nights get the 7th night free. Here is the link to the VRBO site:
The Fishing Shack

Laundry Folding Party...Tonight...My House...Be There!

I should be folding laundry, but I thought just to take a picture of said laundry and write about it on my blog. An entirely more proficient use of time, I think so.

So, the repercussions of having been out of town for 3 weeks are mountainous quantities of laundry upon arrival home. Now, I realize that I have been home for a solid week, and, really, I should be entirely caught up. But...you see...well...um...

I guess I really have no excuse, especially since it was almost all clean when we packed it up in Mexico...

Now, you may notice from the picture that our laundry facilities share a room with our two small daughters. You'll perhaps recall that this was not listed as one of the top ten things I love about my small house. And, I daresay, if ever I start to feel sorry for myself about this arrangement (which is almost never, as I scarcely have time for feeling sorry for myself over such frivolity as laundry rooms) I simply send up a "thank you" to the Laundry Gods who make it possible for me to "do" laundry in the comfort of my own home as opposed to the nearest river and scrubbing rock.

I had to chuckle when I saw the state of all our clean laundry looking as if it had been rooted through by a herd of little piggies, looking for clean panties in the barnyard. Ahem.


I hope this picture makes you chuckle and makes you thankful for your washer and dryer (and laundry room), should you be so lucky to have such heavenly pieces of machinery. Amen.

I'm off to fold laundry.

Scratch that.

I'm off to have cocktails with my girlfriends. Laundry can wait, I say.

Continue rooting, my little piggies.





*Addendum: My dear friend Angie asked, quite nicely, if I might explain exactly how the laundry facility came to find itself in the girls' room. So here you are:

When we first bought our house (remember - it's a hundred years old) there was a laundry room attached to the kitchen. This "laundry room" was originally a back porch that had been enclosed at some point (probably in the fifties) to accommodate the washer and dryer. This enclosure made the kitchen very dark as one of the exterior windows and the window in the original back door no longer brought in any light (does that make sense?). So we opted to tear down the wall between kitchen and laundry room making a big, beautiful, bright, sunny kitchen (now there are big windows on both ends of the kitchen). But, this left the question of what to do with the laundry machines. Well, at the time we had only one, very small boy named Coleman who was just two years old. And being that we practically had a mansion, what with three entire bedrooms and all, we thought to put the laundry in the "extra" bedroom with the guest bed and the office, like a utility room. This arrangement worked very nicely until we had our third child of the baby girl variety. So the guest bed and our desk got the boot and the "utility" room became the "pink" room. We have no garage (they didn't have cars a hundred years ago, you know) so we really have no where else for our laundry machines to go until we do a major house remodel. And the truth is, it just doesn't bother us...until Mt. Laundrymore gets out of hand, that is!

Don't you hate it when...

....you accidentally link your blog to a fellow blogger's site before reading the rules of the "contest". Upon reading said rules, you realize that you were supposed to write a clever "don't you hate it when" post on your own blog before posting the link on fellow blogger's blog. Sadly, you're on your way out the door and can't think of a single clever thing to write in 2.5 minutes, and suddenly you find yourself all flushed and sweaty. Oops. That's embarassing...

Home Again, Home Again

Well, I daresay, we miss Sayulita somethin' fierce.

Dave's ready to sell everything and move there full time. I'm ready to rent out our house and spend 6 months there next school year. Either way, we're both feeling the need to shake things up.

It's good to be home, too. Don't get me wrong. What, with all the laundry and the baseball and the dreary, rainy weather. What's not to love? (I really do love it all, even though I feel a bit like I'm drowning in baseball at the moment - whose idea was it to let all three of the older kids play this year?? Honestly.)

The kids went back to school on Friday (I couldn't bear to send them on Thursday even though we got home late Wednesday night - I just wasn't ready).

The good news is that being gone for that length of time makes it clear to me the things that need to be changed in our house. For example, our filing system needs to be completely cleared out and rebooted, if you know what I mean. Do I really need piles of receipts from 10 years ago? I think not... The living room needs a little splash of color, the dvd's need a more permanent home, and I think some flowering branches would be lovely in my Gramma's vase on the buffet in the dining room. Oh, and that magazine rack with all those old magazines that I think someday I'd like to read...the whole thing's gotta go...including the rack. Want it?

On the agenda for tomorrow? Purge, Baby, purge. Wish me luck - it's not easy for me to get rid of STUFF...even if it is all C*R*A*P.

P.S. Check out my refreshed bloglist in the margin. I added some of my new favorite blogs. These women are AMAZING, I tell you. Truly inspiring. As in, "grind-my-own-peanut-butter-and-make-all-my-kids'-toys-Waldorf-style-while-homeschooling-and-running-a-ranch-oh-and-taking-perfect-pictures-of-my-amazingly-beautiful-children-while-grilling-the-perfect-steak-and-keeping-up-my-blog" inspiring. Ya know?? I just wanna get rid of some magazines...

Packing Up

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Ahhh....

We head into Puerto Vallarta tomorrow for a night on the town and then we fly home Wednesday afternoon.

Our time in Sayulita has been simply wonderful. A few of the favorites:

*Breakfast at Rollie's

*Surfing with our kiddos

*Oatmeal

*Sunning at the pool

*Hide and Seek in the Plaza

*Peanut butter crackers "A la Evie"

*The candy man

*Seeing a baby leatherback turtle

*Fresh made doughnuts on the beach - yummy.

*Standing on our property at sunset

*Burritos at the Burrito Revolucion and seeing a picture of Obama painted on the wall above the word "CAMBIO" - CHANGE

*Coronitas con limon y sal

*Letting the kids stay by themselves at the Arcade in the Plaza

*Meeting so many delightful people and running into friends, Claire and Sandy, at Rollie's

*Robert's Bakery (his brownies...oh my.)

*Body Surfing (that was Dave's favorite)

*Pollos Yolanda (you just can't beat a full plate of chicken, rice, and coleslaw for 25 pesos - $1.80)

*The fabulously favorable exchange rate (14.5 pesos / $1.00 U.S.)

*Sketching ideas of the casita that we'd like to build some day on our land

*Visiting the ultra groovy Costa Verde International School (they do yoga every morning, drool...)

*Hearing the kids try out their Spanish on tentative tongues

*Making plans to come back next year...for longer.

Thanks for checking in.
~Heather

Feliz Dia del Amor y Amistad!

In Mexico (and Guatemala and many other Latin American countries) February 14 is called El Dia del Amor y Amistad. This translates to Day of Love and Friendship. When I was 19, I spent Valentine's day in Puerto Vallarta where I was going to an intensive language school. I was entirely single, and I appreciated that I was still included in the holiday. A friend bought me roses and a group of us went out to dinner and dancing to celebrate. I'm all about inclusivity.

Here are some pics of our Dia del Amor y Amistad:

Valentine goodie bags with I-tunes gift cards.

Happy Day.

Pile o' hand made cards from the kiddos. There's pretty much nothin' sweeter.

Emerson's journal

* A guest post from Emerson who was tired of writing in his own journal...

2/11/09

Yesterday I went to a new beach. I had to cross a cemetery to get to the beach. It was cold at the
beach. We got to open a coconut. My mom got us a donut.

a family's mosileum

overlooking the surf break and Sayulita beyond

* A note from Mom: We took a walk to Playa de Los Muertos (Beach of the Dead). The beach gets its name because you have to walk through the cemetery to get there.

Jesus is Dead in Mexico

We have the darlingest little plaza here in Sayulita and it has the darlingest little church you ever did see. I walk by it every day on the way to my morning cup of happiness. Pathetic, I know, but my morning coffee simply makes me smile. But, back to Jesus...

Often, the girls will accompany me on my jaunt around the block, and when we pass the church they will invariably ask, "Mama, can we pleeease go in and see Jesus?" And, as I am usually on a mission for a "cafe Americano con leche, por favor", I will dissuade them by saying, "Maybe on the way back."

So, on the way back, they will again plea for a peak at Jesus. And, if the coast is clear, we'll go in and sit in the stillness for a few minutes on the first pew. The other day as we sat in the church, gazing at the statuette of Jesus on the Cross, I was reminded of a time when Cole had just turned four...

Dave and I had taken the boys (Emerson was 18 months) on a camping trip down Baja. We had stopped in the charming little town of San Ignacio. There is a very beautiful, old mission there, and we had stopped to check it out. When Cole saw Jesus on the Cross above the pulpit he asked:

"Mom, is Jesus dead?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Jesus died a long, long time ago; almost two thousand years ago."

"Oh no. Mom, can I borrow your cell phone? I have to call Kieran* and tell him Jesus is dead in Mexico!"

Poor kid. He was honestly beside himself, and it took quite a while for him to grasp the concept of 2000 years ago. But Dave and I had a good chuckle, and I smiled to myself on the first pew as the memory played out in my mind's eye.

Kids say the darndest things...

What's the funniest thing your kids have said??

*Kieran is our neighbor friend and was the center of Cole's universe when he was four.