Flaming balls of fire






These pictures make my stomach go ooooog. The Bob discovered that one of our surge protectors suffered a great deal of trauma during our power surge fiasco of a few weeks ago, and here is the evidence. Even as I type this, I can smell the melted plastic smell from the thing sitting in my dining room. And we didn’t even notice the scorch marks on the baseboard heater until tonight. We are really really really really really lucky our house didn’t burn to the ground.

To off set that oogy boogy feeling, I submit two pictures of Cooper from the last few months that just got out of my camera. He spent most of the summer obsessed with the black eyed susans out in the front of our house, and demanded one every time we entered or left the house. And he really likes pasta, can you tell?

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