Friday, March 6, 2020

7 Quick Takes about Shark Horses, a Centenarian's Civic Duty, and Signs That Spring Might Be Coming After All

It's 7 Quick Takes Friday! How was your week?


Phillip engineers building materials at work, and sometimes inspiration strikes at the weirdest times. We took our oldest two kids to the orchestra and were sitting there listening to Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 when Phillip said, "I just got an idea."

"About what?" I whispered back.

"Mixing insulation," he answered, and throughout the rest of the concert I could tell he wasn't really paying attention. I may or may not have seen him making mixing motions in the air with his finger a few times as he tried to conceptualize his idea.

Seeing him so inspired, the 13-year-old leaned over and told me, "This is why music was invented."


For the most part, I like our house. There are just a few things about it that drive me crazy, so one of my hobbies lately has been casually browsing real estate listings on Zillow.

On the way to drop our 8-year-old off at a birthday party, Phillip and I even stopped at an open house for one of the listings I saw.

When we pulled up at the open house, we saw the world's cutest family walking around the yard and checking the place out. Mom had the baby on her hip and the preschool daughter was skipping alongside Dad, looking like they were on their way to a family photo shoot at the pumpkin patch.

Phillip and I threw each other looks of horror.

"How are we supposed to take this house from them?!"

"Should we just keep driving?"

In the end, though, we still stopped and were glad to find numerous things we didn't like about the house. And really, that's why we went in the first place.

Going to open houses to remind ourselves that we like our house is a dangerous game, but we've been to three and so far it's been working out for us.


I'm the least flexible person you've ever met. When I sit on the ground and attempt a straddle stretch, I can barely bring my legs to 90 degrees.

I've always been like that, but getting older has made me worried about someday becoming some kind of petrified tree-person who can barely move, so long story short, I've started stretching every day to slow down the process.

I hate it.

I'm trying really hard, but stretching is extremely uncomfortable and boring. There are moments when I sort of feel my muscles relax into the stretch and I think that's what I'm supposed to be going for, but I can't figure out how to make them do that on command.

Also, I'm usually worried about the 3-year-old running up and doing a swan dive on me in the middle of a stretch and tearing my hamstrings.

I was holding a stretch, grimacing and muttering like usual the other day, when he came over to see what was going on. "Do NOT touch me while I'm doing this," I growled, and I got serious déjà vu from being in labor.

Maybe I'm exaggerating by comparing the two, but only a little. I really hate stretching.


I can't stop laughing at this funny Google search someone left on the computer. I'm dying at the shark-horse, although the pug-rabbit on its left is a close second.

I can only hope no one was researching for a school project, although it would probably make for the most interesting tri-fold posterboard in the whole class.


I went to volunteer at my 6-year-old's school and stopped to admire the bulletin board in the hallway.

In honor of the 100th day of school last week, the kindergartners drew pictures of what they think they'll look like at age 100. They crumpled them up to make them look wrinkly (ha ha) and finished the writing prompt: "When I am 100 years old, I will _____________."

This kid wrote "pay taxes."

I can only wish this was my kid's paper. What a practical young man!

I remember when my now 11-year-old did this same prompt in kindergarten. He knew that people get stronger as they grow up but didn't realize that at some point you actually stop getting stronger, so he wrote "When I am 100 I will lift a car."


Speaking of cute misunderstandings, I caught my 3-year-old digging in the yard with a spade he found in the garage. When I told him not to do it anymore, he looked sheepishly at the damage and suggested, "Maybe the grasshoppers can plant new grass."

How cute can one person be? I just agreed because I didn't have the heart to tell him that's not how grasshoppers work.


We've had some truly beautiful days around here where the temperature has hit 60 degrees. Spring is almost here!

Phillip lowered the hoop in the driveway and introduced the 6-year-old to basketball. We (read: he, because I couldn't care less) have never been very successful at getting the kids interested in sports, but this time it seems to have taken. The 6-year-old now counts points by two and keeps a running tally of his lifetime total.

A few days ago, I came home from dropping somebody off somewhere and the 6-year-old was in the driveway with his ball beaming and yelling, "I have 187 points!"

Watching someone guard a player three feet taller than him during a pick-up game is priceless.

It's been nice getting outside, although the kids grew over the winter and their bike seats all need to be adjusted so for now, they look like circus bears riding tiny bicycles.

These boys are always playing, fighting, and sometimes play fighting with each other. Phillip says they remind him of two otters rolling around.

Going outside to play without snow gear for the first time in months is the best.

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Megan said...

Pay taxes, ha ha ha! That made me laugh. I also love the grasshopper story. So sweet ❤️

PurpleSlob said...

Our babies need bike seat adjustments too! Bears in a circus- bwahaha!