More Fun Than... Getting Water Constantly Splashed In Your Face

We don't get out much... obviously.

My SIL, Julie, invited us to attend the Children's Museum with her and the kiddos. We jumped at the chance, and even got there a little early. While we were waiting, Benjamin was so thrilled to be outside, he celebrated by plopping his behind promptly into a mud puddle. Oh, to be young again and not care about a cold, damp backside - the simple joys of childhood!

We spent a couple of hours building customized railways, watching the mini train sets zoom over bridges and into darkened tunnels, drawing on the walls with lights, playing in tree houses, experimenting with water wheels and sliding down ginormous twisty slides with reckless abandon. And thanks to Mother Nature, we enjoyed blue skies, not-so-cold temps, and the bright, beautiful sun. I don't recall if I mentioned it to Julie, but I owe her a very hearty thank-you for getting us out of the house!

Where I'm From

Waxing Nostalgic, Poetry-style

I saw a similarly-titled post today on my friend, Whimsy's blog. It reminded me of an assignment in graduate school - yes, graduate school (it was an intense program, I promise!)- for my "Techniques in Storytelling" class. Turns out, it's the same template, so I pulled it up from my grad school archives to share with the masses.

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Where I'm From

I’m from brown shag carpet that tickles your toes, upright pianos, faux wood plank flooring, Coleman sleeping bags, dozens of bags of whole-grain wheat, National Geographic magazines, worn-out baking pans and white Bosch mixers.

I’m from a long line of strong women; from Julia to Aunt Afton, Jennifer to Grandma Marchant, Kali to JaNea. I’m from men of great stature and wisdom; from Frank to Grandpa Thelin, from Eric, David and Brent, to Uncle Evan.

I’m from “life isn’t fair?”, “I don’t want to hear another peep” and “do you want me to stop this car so you can walk home?”. I’m from “see you later, alligator” and “missing you already.”

I’m from church potlucks and family reunions filled with funeral potatoes, mysterious jell-o salads, and vats of crock-pot creations. I’m from hot, homemade dinner rolls that burn your fingers, fresh strawberry pies in the summer and Schilling’s spaghetti sauce mixes.

I’m from scrapbooks of times gone by, aromatic cedar hope chests, black steamer trunks and a jewelry box with the twirling ballerina.

I’m from here and there, scenic views, exquisite & heart-wrenching melodies, scrumptious dishes, familiar aromas, and comfortable textures. I’ve lived a million life-changing experiences woven into a beautiful, odd-shaped quilt of where I am from.

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Here's the template, in case you want to do your own. Enjoy! (Thanks to Whimsy for providing it on her blog... and hoping she doesn't mind I copied her brilliance!)