MOCHA MORNINGS

this is my finger.  and yes, that is a nasty, worm gut coated, lake water infested, 5+ year old hook sticking out of it.  after getting home from the lake, a lake my family and i went to where i didn't even actually fish mind you, i opened the back hatch to the tahoe, reached in to pull out a cooler (one of those material ones, not the hard plastic ones) and i got hooked.  i have no words to describe the pain that i felt as my husband is trying to detach my finger from the cooler that this triple hook fishing lure is attached too, as well as a pair of Nike swim trunks.  as he is screaming at the 10 year old to bring him his leathermen tool, i am screaming bloody murder because every time me, the cooler or the swim trunks moved the pain became worse than any that i had ever experienced during child birth.  after my husband REFUSED to call 911 (he didn't think the incident was ambulance worthy, but he wasn't the one with the fish hook in his finger), he finally got the hook c

this morning i was scrolling through our photos from summer, thinking back to our vacation in Hawaii and how beautiful The Big Island is.  remembering what a fun time the boys had at vacation bible school and all the little day trips we took with the windows rolled down and kids screaming in the backseats. the innocence and laughter of the boys just running through the yard sprinklers and playing in the back yard on the slip-'n-slide. a lot of memories have been made this summer and i love how pictures can, for a split moment, take you back in time and bring a smile to your face. then of course, i found this picture.  the dump station picture. why my husband feels the need to capture the memory of the dump station at a t exas campground is beyond me.  but here it is, and here it will stay. m en! can someone please explain?