There are good days, and there are bad days...

I'd say a good day is when you get a phone call from your Ila, saying he has Seagull Eggs for you and your family.



I'd say a good day is when you pick them up and instead of "like five or so" they give you TWELVE! A DOZEN seagull eggs. MmmMMmMMMmm. The taste of my youth. The taste of the ocean breeze. The taste of blown seagull eggs! I'd say spring was here when the seagull eggs arrive.



Awesome.

Then I'd say its a bad day when you wake up to this.

And yes, she's been stuck in this for OVER TWO WEEKS. Until yesterday, my mom was able to walk over to the next lot over and park her car on the road, walk on the gravel pad, and over to the side of her house, and along almost under the house and get in. Yesterday, the rain gods thought it might be nice for us to get some rain. So, now she has to wade through about twelve inches, at the lowest point of water to get into her house.



And I'm not exaggerating. Seriously.

The awesome city of Kotzebue has blown her over when she's called for some help. She's been pumping every three hours for two weeks straight and can not keep up. I think its time for a letter to the editor. I think maybe after that, the City might feel inclined to help an elder...a disabled person...a grandmother out. Ya think?



Oh yeah, I'd also think it might be a bad day if you woke up to a broken 4-wheeler to go with your broken car...and then your son's grades came in showcasing an "F" in math. Oh, and then you walk into your daughter's room only to be ten seconds too late. Too late from stopping her from cutting her hair to the scalp. Seriously, I thought six year olds were over that crap.



So I did what every other great mother in history has done. I lied. I told my daughter that my dad cut off my finger when I cut my hair and that she needed to figure out which finger she wanted cut off. I chose my middle finger cause it was tallest... (And yes, part of my middle finger was cut off in a rocking chair incident when I was four years old) Then I told my son that he flunked the seventh grade. That he was going to have the ENTIRE summer to think about not playing sports and being in the SAME grade he was in before... Ugh. It sure beats what I would have gotten. An a$$ kicking. Eventually I'll tell them the truth, but for now, I'm going to let them ponder that. Besides, I need to cool off.



Other than all that bad news...we're doing GREAT! The twins and grandma are coming Saturday! We can't wait. Oh...and with all these lemons, I am drinking some pretty great LEMONADE. :)