We leave for Oman in a week for a short pre-Christmas vacation. I’m looking forward to it, but I’ve been a little too busy to think much about it ahead of time. Today is a roundup of recent photos with no unifying theme.
My international kid signing a card for a birthday party: Print, cursive, and Arabic
There are some strange looking bees here. The one on the right is about the size of my fingernail (a tiny bee, much smaller than the US), but the one on the left is a gigantic monster of a black bee. 
I haven’t been successful in figuring out what type of bees I have, but they seem to be doing the job since I’m getting great stuff from my garden . . .
Like this bowl of lettuce, chard, beet greens and squash that I harvested this morning!
(trivia: the beet picture in the background is one that Calvin drew last year in his art class. It’s perfect in my kitchen.)
There’s a funny book about gardening called The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden and that about sums up the “financial benefits” of gardening for me. When imported German dirts costs $12 per bag (and I needed a lot of bags), it’s more about the joy of the process then deluding myself into thinking that I’m coming out ahead in a dollars and cents kind of way.
This is an almost daily event. If Josie hadn’t been the one to fold all the clothes in the first place, I would weep. Camille has started dressing herself (and actually been pretty successful instead of yelling, “I’m stuck!!” with an arm twisted through the neck of her shirt) and has very definite ideas about what she wants to wear. If I have something in hand that she doesn’t like, she runs away laughing, daring me to come catch her.
Thankfully she likes the skirt I knit for her. I love this and kind of want one for myself. I wonder how long it would take and if it would look totally ridiculous on me?
As she’s become more vocal she can put words to her feelings instead of just screaming (although, she still does plenty of that). She’s not saying it in this picture, but several times a day I hear, “You’re being mean, Mommy!” Usually when I won’t let her eat chocolate or marshmallows for breakfast.