The other day, I went with Dad and my friend Karissa to some property Dad owns in Snohomish to harvest some native plants for our rain garden. In addition to huckleberry bushes, salal, and lots of sword ferns, we found a sink, a decomposed mattress, and a smashed old trailer.

“Interesting,” we thought, and went about digging up ferns. As we left, checking to make sure we got all our pots and shovels, Dad said: “We’ll bring everything but the kitchen sink.”


The next day, I came down from pumping milk for Benji. As I walked into the kitchen, I dropped one of the open bottles. “Darn!” I said, and then, to Ian’s surprise: “Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk.”


Poor Benji, growing up in such a family.

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