Rhode Island Part Three

More sights from RI

On the way to the beach...

Warren's Point Beach after Hurricane Bill

At the Farmer's Market

Rhode Island Part Two

Faces...

Rhode Island Part One

David and I spent the last two weeks in RI. Every summer for the past fifteen years (I think) D's family has had the opportunity to "rent" out a beach house. It's a sweet deal - they have friends in the area who actually live in Louisiana most of the year, but own a summer home on the shore in Little Compton. It's a big enough house to (very cosily) fit the entire family - 7 Yeagers and 5 Bowmans. I love the picture above. David is with his nephews, Adam (4) and Daniel (2). I'm pretty sure the three of them were imagining they were pilots - so I'm not really sure what the Pixar Movie-Viewer is for, but they seem to be enjoying themselves... especially Vid.

Here are a few photos from the trip. Enjoy!

How we pass the time:

Eating yummy food - especially corn on the cob!



Playing bacce on the lawn.

Making 15 foot mentos-and-diet-soda fountains.

Shooting off the potato gun. Who doesn't like to see potatoes flying 1,100 feet into the air? (Yes, really. My brother-in-law Stuart knows the formula to calculate just how high they went.)

Being Old

Our next door neighbor, Andy, is a frail old man we thought was close to 90. He leaves his house daily, backing slowly out of his driveway in a dark blue minivan. (He goes somewhere for part of the day - somewhere like a local Legion or something - for a midday meal.) Every time we see the van leave, we cringe. Yesterday, on his way, out he stopped to talk to David... and mentioned that he was on his way to MICHIGAN to visit his MOTHER-IN-LAW who was 105. Apparently she still lives on her own. Aside from being completely terrified at the thought of Andy out on the expressway, and wondering what in the heck they do to pass the time, we decided he must not be quite as old as we thought - maybe mid eighties at the latest. But still. His mother-in-law. 105. Sheesh.

And speaking of age, David and I decided to officially declare ourselves no longer young. 30 is just 17 days away for me. We have a house, a kid... and as of Thursday afternoon, we now own a minivan. I really see it as the Lord's provision for us - we found one in excellent condition, fairly low mileage, and at a much lower cost than we were expecting to have to pay. Our mechanic examined it, gave it his stamp of approval, and now it's ours. Despite the fact that I'm nervous about driving it (I mean, come on, I'm used to a Sentra), and that it's not a new new car, I'm excited to have it. Finally, enough space for whatever we need to do.

Even for a minivan, you have to think it's pretty. Right?

(And don't worry - we're not totally admitting defeat about our ages. David is holding onto his youth... He has an Atari and Batman toys. He sings silly songs and talks in cartoon voices. He doesn't clean his bedroom. And me? Well, I've got David.)

And Then There Were Three

Abigail turned a month old on Wednesday. A month. I know it's not much, but it's hard to believe.

I've been up since six AM. Abigail woke wanting to eat, so we did. She ate at 11:00 PM, 3:00 AM, and again at 6. After breakfast she was bright eyed and bushy tailed, as the saying goes. And the sun was up. So I had a choice - try to lull her back to sleep so I could climb back in bed next to David (who, incidentally, is still there), or stay up and enjoy my baby until she conked back out. She's asleep now - so maybe I should be, too. Instead I'm enjoying a cup of decaf (funny, BA (Before Abigail) the words "enjoy" and "decaf" would never have been in the same sentence), a slice of banana bread, and quiet time in front of my computer. No more leisurely Saturday mornings in bed, I guess. I can probably kiss Sunday afternoon naps goodbye for a while, too. At least Sunday afternoon naps like they used to be. Every time I close my eyes now I have one ear tuned to the baby monitor.

People told us our lives would be different, that no parent is ever prepared. It's amazing how a parent-to-be comprehends that statement, and at the same time, doesn't understand it at all. It's only just now that D and I are beginning to feel somewhat human again. Our lives have some pretense of a routine - or at least a pattern (it's too early to call it a rut) - that we're managing to live with. Yesterday we even managed to have friends over for dinner! Our lives are filled with a lot more mess - baby clutter and bodily fluids - than I ever imagined. And this is just the beginning.

And yet, every time I pick her up out of her crib after a nap and look at her squidgy, sleepy little face, it doesn't really matter. I've never wanted to kiss and hug someone so much in my life. All that baby softness snuggled up to your neck - who could resist? Seriously.