So, Joe and I went Frisbee golfing one evening. There’s a course not too far from our house I discovered on a walk with Peter. When we got there, it was a little windy. Now the advice for the day…Don’t go frizbee golfing when it’s windy. We were okay until hole 5, although our disks tended to fly quite far and in the wrong direction if you through it up to far. Joe throws his with his muscular power, and it flies away to a think a new record distance for him, although not towards the hole. He went to go find it, and I throw mine. I threw it into some bushes, but at least not over the fence. Upon further investigation, I threw it right in the middle of this monstrous wild rose bush.

So I go to get it, trying to bypass the thorns, and the boggy mess surrounding it.  I stumbled into the boggy mess, and instead of getting my show muddy…I ended up stepping in a big hole and fell up to my chest in mud and water. It was cold, and wet, and gross. I also scratched up my arms due to the roses and getting out. But I did get out. And Joe got my frisbee. Some other people finally found his, very far from where he was looking. We stopped playing, and I walked home.

Here’s how I looked:

Another funny story:  I went to do some hand dishes, and got distracted. I come back, who knows when later, and there was soap a foot a half high and water spilling onto the counter and floor. I felt very I Love Lucyish.

Final thing: Peter finally figured out he could roll from his tummy to back. Strange little kid, glad he’s figured it out.