7 Sep
The view upward from the hammock.
The hammock was part of Molly and Lindsay’s day of fun.  Molly is in fifth grade now.  She’s my cousin.  And godchild.  And likes to poke my sides and tickle me under my chin so I make that back-of-the-throat disgusting noise.  I love her lots.
The day together began with Sprocket (my car) needing an oil change.  That was fun.  We waited in like with, like, eighty cars … according to Molly anyways.
We went to a rummage sale at my church.  Also fun.

We ate spinach salads.  Yum.

Decorated cake balls for the party that evening.  The cake balls were PERFECTION.  So perfectly dipped and delicately sprinkled.  They were pieces. of. art.

Then we found the hammock, two trees and cuddled up in the midst of the wind and chill.  This hammock was my bed for a week when I was on a mission trip to Mexico, mixing concrete and passing buckets of the wet goop to cover roofs on houses in the Yucatan.  The hammock is super comfy and super huge enough for many of us to pile into it.  (When I was in Mexico, it was large enough for me to wrap it around myself with some left over.  With stupid innocence to think it would save me from the geckos.  That covered the ceiling.  Every night.)  Molly’s older brother, Sam, came later and joined us in our hammock glory.

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