Yard work, broken swingsets and mormans

I've been neglecting my yardwork. Which really wasn't that big of a deal because most of the grass has stopped growing and turned brown. I suppose I could water it, but then I would have to mow more, now wouldn't I? So I fought with the weedeater, and won. Then I mowed. While mowing the backyard I became frustrated with having to go around the swingset. It's broken anyway, has been since hubs was here last. Apparently he moved it and a bolt came loose. So I flipped the thing over twice out of my way. Once I was done with the yard I got out my tools and took it apart. I had a little help with the last piece, it had rusted together and a neighbor happened to be out and helped me pull it apart.

So how do mormans come into this? Well, I'm sitting on the front bench watching my toddler play when a minivan pulls into my driveway. A minivan with an older man driving and a couple of other guys. Then they get out and the two young guys have on the white button up shirt with the black name tags. Oh yeah, I can spot them a mile away. So I'm thinking, WTF? And they ask if this is the ****** residence and I say yes before it occurs to me to flat out lie. So he's like "good we're in the right place." And I, sitting there in my not so modest tank top I did yard work in, and my nose ring reply with "You are?" The sarcasm flies right over their heads and they come over and introduce themselves. To cut some stuff short I tell them Jeff is in Iraq and stuff and that I didn't even know he was still in contact with their church. And the older dude explains that they track their members for all eternity (ok, he didn't use those exact words). They ask for an address and I give them jeff's email because he never has gotten a physical address to me. The same neighbor accidently rescued me. I had loaned him my riding lawnmower because it was about to rain, and it would be quicker than his push mower. He pulls up right about then and I explain he was bringing it back, mumble something about me being Methodist (but left off how bad I am at it) and pretty much totally ignore their exit.

You know. Now that I have it typed up, I realize that the mormans were the funniest part of my day.


I'll leave you with a picture of my toddler and Charlie. One of her newest favorite phrases is "Dats my Chawee!" (That's my Charlie). Well, the other day he was in her room at naptime and she wanted to pet him. So I put him up there with her. She hugged him to her and they both went to sleep!


How cute is that?