As you probably know, we’re ate up with scouting. Son-man is a Webelo in the Boy Scout program and two of our daughters are in Girl Scouts.
The manly man received new OBS shorts from his grandma (a little late) for his birthday, and he got all dressed up in his finery for his Pack meeting on Monday evening.
He turned to his dad and said, “Wow Dad, I look like a real Boy Scout!”
We agree – and are SO proud of his accomplishments!
My husband didn’t believe me. Nope, he thought I had finally fallen off my rocker.
He was wrong.
We drive to church along Highway 16 in the Texas Hill Country.  Just about halfway to town, we pass Escondida, a spa resort owned by Bob Phillips, the Texas Country Reporter. Anyone who’s anyone knows who Bob Phillips is, as his television show has been around for years and years. We used to be so tickled when we lived in Utah and could get RFD-TV and watch Bob in the middle of the night – a taste of Texas home up there in the high desert.Â
So, we get on the road to church Sunday morning, and I just happened to mention that I had the camera (the kids were performing in church, yaknow) and if we saw the Texas Country Reporter auto, I wanted the hubster to hop out and take a picture. Well, he’s not hopping anywhere – but, he questioned me.
“Really?” he said, as DD#1 took matters into her own hands and opened up my camera case and handed him my camera.
“Yes, really,” I replied.
He looked at me like I’d completely gone over the edge.
I looked back at him with one of THOSE looks – and he resigned himself to the fact that I was quite serious and he had a job to do.Â
And he did it – my night in shining armour!
When he got back in the car, still trying to figure out if I’d lost my last marble, one of the kids in the back seat piped up — hey, we got our own PAPA-razzi!!!
You can see the Texas Country Reporter website here, and view some of their videos here (make note that at the end of some of the videos, the vehicle you see above is parked in that exact spot, for the ending of those segments).
Sitting at a potluck lunch at church yesterday, enjoying conversation with our retired pastor and his wife.Â
I excitedly proclaimed that our new little chicks had started laying eggs!Â
But, golly, their first eggs were quite small – just a tad bigger than quail eggs.
When I told this to Pastor and his wife, they said, “Wow, will they get any bigger?”
Oh gosh, there was yet another idiom question – and I sure had a hard time not letting myself guffaw aloud!
I calmly (though with a smirk) explained that the current eggs we have received will NOT grow any bigger … but, as the hens grow, so will the eggs they lay.Â
Danged city-fied yankees sure make for fun fodder for me!
Son-man came to me with such excitement, I thought he was going to burst before he got my office door opened.
Behold – a grub from our compost heap, worthy of the saying that everything is bigger in Texas:
And no, son, he CANNOT sleep in your room with you until you can take him to scouts next week. ewwwwww