London plays

These speak for themselves, so I'm going to sign off and see you next week.

Camping

Last weekend I took my ecology class camping in Yosemite. Here's the view down Yosemite Valley. Half Dome is down-valley on the left, and Bridal Veil Falls is right over my shoulder. The last time I'd been camping was in Big Bend in January of 2007; past time to get out there and do it again.

Not one of my more flattering pictures, but it's the only one of me and the valley. Ho hum.


Last night I set up my tent in the back yard, and London and I camped out. He was pretty excited.


Here he is with his little Thomas lantern and his bean bag fish, which is his new favorite snuggly thing.


We had a great time. It was cool but not cold, and we stayed toasty warm under a big down comforter. It was a clear night and the quarter moon shone down on us through the window in the top of the tent. It was the first time I'd ever slept in the tent without the rain fly on; every other time there has either been too much dust or too much frost to camp without it. I read Tiny stories by the light of his lantern until he fell asleep, and then read myself to sleep too.

I couldn't face dragging all that stuff back in after only one night, so we're going to camp out again tonight.

More Londony goodness

Aww yeah.


Mom gets some London snugglin' too.


The gentleman enjoys his bawth.


I have no idea what is going on here. Mom's bedrooms slippers, for one.


Dang it feels good to be a gangsta.

We save paper towel tubes for London. Mom calls them "doot-da-da-doos", because you can hold them like trumpets and sing, "Doot-da-da-doo!" They also make good telescopes. London pretends to be a pirate. "I'm wookin' for sarks!" he says. Sometimes I use my best pirate voice and say, "Yargh, mateys! We'll take their beans and dangle 'em from the spanker sail!" and London just dies laughing. "Say it again, Daddy!" Who can resist?

Happy birthday to my mom, who turns a good-sized number Thursday. I'm not saying what it is, but it's evenly divisible by both 10 and 15. We love you and miss you!

London's Easter egg hunt

Here's the brave egg-hunter, Triceratops basket in hand, being filmed for posterity by his adoring mother.


And he's off!


Tracking the elusive eggs into the wildest corners of the back yard...


Unloading the first haul back at base camp...


Fearlessly pushing on to the finish...


Feasting on the spoils of the hunt...


And finally, enjoying the choicest of morsels back at the hunting lodge. Truly, no egg or bunny is safe when this mighty warrior is on the prowl!