This is the world's tiniest construction site. (Not sure what the monster truck was doing there.)
And this is the world's tiniest foreman. The world's tiniest foreman spent almost three hours yesterday afternoon sitting there playing with his trucks in the mulch. His mommy sat on the front porch swing reading a magazine. It was a lovely day.
Mason (from across the street) came over to make sure everything was up to codes. I think we passed inspection.
Walt looked extremely incredulous when I told him there was a restaurant named Waffle House. Or it may have been more of a "why-haven't-you-shared-this-bit-of- information-with-me-before-now?" look; I don't know. He quickly shed the look of disbelief when we walked in, however. I mean, come on, these people have a language based almost entirely on waffles. They were screaming the word from the minute we walked in. And the menus have pictures of waffles on them. You can imagine his delight.
Here he is craning his neck to get a first look at his raison d'etre.
God bless our waitress, Flo. (OK, I'm making that up.) She didn't even finish writing down our order before she turned and screamed, "Mel, this little boy wants a waffle. Make it fast." (OK, I'm making up the 'Mel' part, too.) Walt had said the word 'wakkle' eight times since she stepped up.
For the record, Walt also likes Waffle House toast (you know, the stuff that they put on the butter), eggs w/ cheese and bacon.
You may be asking yourself, "Where is Ginger?" As a small part of the concession package that I offered in order to go snowboarding a few weeks ago (we won't get into all of the details; it's embarrassing), I agreed to keep Walt while she went off for a short girls weekend at a fancy hotel/restaurant/spa destination in Mississippi. (At the risk of offending any of our Mississippi readers, I will not make any jokes here, but I am accepting nominations in the Comments section.)
So, boys will be boys. When Mommy is gone, we can do things like lunch at Waffle House. Or pile all of the pillows in the house on Mommy and Daddy's bed and jump around.
Or make a mess of the living room.
Or wander aimlessly onto a construction site to look at heavy equipment.
(Walt demanded to know where the dump truck was that was hauling all of this dirt. He thought he saw it "over there.")
Mainly, as guys, we're just trying to stay out of trouble and not wear pants.
If you were wondering why there have been no posts lately (besides our extreme laziness, which you already knew about), the reason is that Walt has been on Spring Break. No, we didn't let him go to Panama City with all the other kids from his class . . . Walt has spent the past three nights in Nashville with Nana and Putty!
Mommy and Daddy missed him terribly, but we consoled ourselves with
long evenings whiled away on the patios of our favorite restaurants.
It was rough, but we soldiered through. We met back up in Jackson this evening for the toddler return and he didn't seem any worse for the wear. We'll see tomorrow if he shows any signs of extreme spoiling.
Thanks, Nana and Putty!
P.S. For pictures from the actual visit, check out Jeff and Abbey's blog!
Walt wanted to give a shout out to the Belmont Bruins for securing their spot in the Big Dance for the second year running. They topped East Tennessee State by an impressive 27 points in the final round of the Atlantic Sun Conference tournament on Saturday. Walt's favorite Bruin, John Langdon, gave him this sweet t-shirt when he was here for Rhodes homecoming last year. I'm guessing that since he's been wearing the shirt for the past several months, he's going to be all, "We've got a good chance in the first round" and "I can't believe that Dicky V gives us no respect." Even though he hasn't watched a single Bruins game -- just jumping on the bandwagon. Some people.
Of course, he had to switch his allegiance from the team that he actually has seen in action (twice) this year after he learned that Murray State lost in the first round of the OVC tournament. He was a bit upset.
But he got over it. No time for tears when you have to get back to practice.
The fadeaway (except with both feet firmly on the ground).
Check out that perfect form on the jumper. Just like Mike Miller, huh Daddy?
Okay, so his freethrows still need a little work.
"Over the back! Foul on Mommy!"
As many of you will recall, I traditionally spelled Ginger on Saturday mornings during the trying days of overnight feedings and four-hour sleep cycles. Well, we made it to three meals a day and sleeping all night, but I don't think we anticipated the . . . uh . . . intensity with which Walt would live his life once he developed a routine . . . and turned two. So, on the heels of five straight days with the little fella' (see below), Mommy was certainly due for a break. Thanks to a fortuitous late-night visit to the local paper's website, I discovered this event, taking place in Memphis this weekend. Go ahead, click on the link . . . That's right. Cotton. The fabric of our lives. It makes for great blue jeans and even better conventions.
You would think the stuff grows to be 14 feet high by looking at the equipment they use to plant, plow, water, fertilize, harvest, gin and bale it. White gold, they call it. In fact, I saw that on a license plate on the front of the largest Ford truck I've ever seen in the valet lot of the Peabody Hotel. Usually, those spaces are reserved for Bentleys and the other ridiculously priced luxury sedans typically owned by NBA players. Not this weekend. This weekend in Memphis cotton was king again. Oh, and also Walt.
As promised in the Association press release, "[m]ore
than 400 exhibitors from over 40 states and three foreign countries will occupy
over 200,000 square feet of exhibit space in the Convention Center. Show
attendees will see a greater number of farm equipment manufacturers, specialized
services, the latest in seed varieties, and new technologies in precision
farming software and services." And, of course, Walt and I were among the estimated 15,000 people to attend the two-day event.
The Southern Cotton Ginners didn't disappoint. We saw harvesters that were over three stories tall, sprayers that stretched impossible distances and scaled-down remote control models of both. (Walt was afraid of the giant harvester.) We saw freezing cotton queen wannabes crossing the street in tiaras and evening wear. (I think the humor of the cotton queens was lost on Walt.) As promised, we saw demonstrations of the latest in precision farming software and pieces of equipment as big as our house that operate with GPS guidance. (Walt was equally unimpressed with this.) We even met an engineer from International Harvester who drew the short straw and had to attend the convention along with the half-million dollar harvester he helped design. (Walt was too busy worrying about said "Cadillac of harvesters" to hear what the young man had to say to me.) What did Walt find most appealing about the whole affair? FREE POPCORN. In the picture below he enjoys his second cup and ponders the destruction he could sow with the 40-foot wide "Whopper Chopper" that was for sale behind him.
Putty, can I borrow $16,900?
In other news about fluffy, white stuff, my aforementioned, five-day absence was because I went to Steamboat Springs, Colorado for three days of snowboarding. I love my wife. Just because I have control of the blog for tonight, I offer a few pictures of what turned out to be an epic extended weekend of precipitation for me and my fellow enthusiasts.
When all was said and done, my friends Brent, Clay, Kimberly and I had about 36 inches of the white stuff during the three days we were skiing and riding. The snow on Brent's goggles and jacket in the photo below was the result of being in the gondola line for about ten minutes. (That's the best photo of me from the whole weekend. I'm sure Brent is thrilled about that.)
These are my feet. Oh, and more snow than I've ever seen in my entire life.
All of these photos were taken with a $10, disposable digital camera I bought at Rite-Aid. Not bad.
Wow!
