Farmer's Market

We decided to spend yesterday away from our yard labors. We took a quick trip to the Sunrise Farmer's Market. We were only there for about 15 minutes, but it was still enough time to buy some fruits and corn, catch a few tunes from the Loose Trio, see a friend, swallow a cherry pit (Mason), and just enjoy the 105 degree temperature.

Quick! Everyone! Back inside the house with the new AC!

Father's Day Bake Off

Our fabulous friends, Nora, Pedar, and Casey, all came over last Saturday. That was a blast, but that is not what I am here to talk about today. Nora was telling us about meeting a lady in the supermarket who said that she was making cinnamon rolls and bacon for her hubby for father's day. This got me thinking... Hummm, what do I want for Father's Day breakfast? I had some left over pizza dough, and, dough is dough, so:

The next morning, Mason helped me roll out the dough and spread the butter, sugar and cinnamon while Jen went to the store for some pecans, raisins and sausage (I don't really like cooking bacon... too much grease!). Mason was a bit hesitant about getting his hands greasy, but once he learned that sugar+butter+cinnamon=salivatory bilss, he was dandy.

Once the raisins and pecans were in place, and I was able to keep Mason from picking them off the dough, we rolled up the dough. We were not feeling patient to let them rise on this day, so we popped them into the oven.

We spent most of the 30 minutes of bake time just staring at the sugary carbs of wonder as they baked away. I believe I have quite a sioux chief in the making. Thanks for giving me a great Father's Day treat. I wouldn't be even a fraction of the father I am without Jen and Mason. I am grateful for all they have allowed me to experience in my life. I would not be a father without them.

Donut King

At times, our healthy lifestyle gets thrown aside, and we give props to high carb, high fat, high sugar treats.


Mason has been recently introduced to these small rings of carnal delight and has even developed a preference. When I placed an old fashioned on his napkin, he looked at the plate of other selections and reached for the rainbow sprinkle (that's my boy!) and placed it on his napkin instead.






M for Mason. MMM for donuts!

Don't Blow A Gasket!

I am not sure if it is just in his genes or if it is all the broccoli he eats, but Mason has taken to "Hulking" at the dinner table.


This little game is sure to entertain, but with all that clenching, I'm afraid of what is going on below.

Gas, Food... Nipples?

When we purchased our new stove this winter, we were unpleasantly unsuprised to find that it did not quite fit into this old, uneven, sloping, mismatched house. It stuck out into the walkway leaving a teeny, tiny space to get in and out of the oven (the island in the center of our kitchen doesn't really help either. The thing is so big that once I swore I spotted Jack and Kate looking for some way off the darned thing). This led to burned knees and a sore back from twisting to get cast iron pans and cookie sheets in and out of the hot box (My right eyebrow is now a bit shorter from a close call with a hot pizza stone). And so, once again, I was called out of "handyman" retirement to replace the gas line with shorter, more accomodating fittings.


When working with gas, it is always important to consult a professional. Luckily, I had one on hand. At first, I wasn't sure if Mason was up to the job. He seemed distracted by the red of the wrenches and the silver backing of the stove.


However, once I got his attention on the nipples, his professionalism came shining through. Mason proved to be an expert when it came to nipples. He gave me the advice and the confidence I needed to get the job done. Together, Mason and I reclaimed over 2 inches of floor space. My knees were thankful for a job well done, and I even think I felt my right eyebrow raise with a regained confidence.

Mason Gets High

In an attempt to involve Mason in our family meal time, we busted out "the chair." It is, as you may have noticed, a strap-on. I am in love with this style due to the fact that we have little space in our home, and this chair alleviates the need for another baby item invading the already scarce floor space (don't get me started on the amount of times I have been detoured by the behemoth that is the swing).


Mason seems to be at home in his wooden tower. He sat with us for lunch, and gawked at the food we consumed. Here, high above the black, dog hair tundra, Mason practices his table conversation (mostly sighs and occasional high-pitched squeals) and works on his tracking skills (Dad's food on plate, Dad's food to Dad's mouth, Dad's food on plate, Dad's food...oh, please come to me...erg! Dad's food to Dad's mouth...).

However, not too long after being seated, Mason begins to wonder, "What is the point of all this sitting? What's in it for me?!" He begins to fuss, and Mom, with her super-human nursing powers, rescues him from his pine lair


But it's a start!