As part of my midterm for my Introduction to Fieldcraft class, we were told to create a blog to serve as an online field journal. I plan on doing that, and then adding in my own personal whatevers* as well.
In order to make my whatevers make sense, I feel like a couple of introductions are necessary.
First and most evidently, I am a member of the ex-leash kid society*. Yes, I was that kid. You know, the one barefoot at the grocery store with unbrushed hair, shoes on the wrong feet, and a permanent smear of chocolate on my face. While I have since grown out of my ways, I consider myself an advocate for the society. I would like to consider myself as proof of a relatively good future in adulthood for LKs everywhere, and so it's my prayer that my blogs will find a way to give a sense of hope to parents of LKs and to LKs themselves (ex or current).
I have a dog: Chubaca Falkor, but people just call him Chewy. He's my own dog-form of a LK, my partner in crime, and he's my best friend. He will come up in most of my posts --- as he is, most of the time, present on my excursions outside of class. He is pictured below:
Lastly, I think it is important to note that I am a recent 1st time home-owner, a 1st-time garden starter, and a beginning wood-worker. A lot of my whatevers will concern these new additions to my life.
*whatevers: endeavors, thoughts for the day, personal anecdotes
*ex-leash kid society: in order to be a member, you had to at some point in your life 1. have been attached to a leash (whether that leash be a harness (see photo of myself above) or wrist-attached (had one of those too)) and 2. your parents had to have monitored your chocolate and/or candy intake.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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yes, that leash is why you are alive today. The morning I saw you running down the road barefoot in your nightie yelling "momma, where are you?" when I was in the kitchen drinking coffee - I knew something had to be done. And then the time I was backing out from the soccer field with a car load of kids, and something in my mind said look in the back seat for Eileen, and to my shock you were no longer there. Suddenly your little face appeared in my driver window upsidedown (you had slipped out the window and were standing on top of the car!!)The is when I knew it was serious. In came the leash method. Love,Momm
ReplyDeleteSorry about that, Mom. If it's any consolation, I promise to never do any of those things again.
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