That Y-shaped Footwear

 
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A post from Cecilia at The Kitchen’s Garden Project reminded me of the ways we refer to those simple shoes held on by your toe. Flip-flops … sure. Thongs … okay. But other countries have their own words. Jandals is one of my favs.  New Zealand gave us that.  Brilliant.  As a Southern Californian, we had Tojos ( say that, “toe hoes” ).  This was a lesser product from Flojos ( say “flow hoes” ) a common beach shoe made from rubber, easy to slop on and off when you’re surfing the waves battling sand and the ladies.  I think most of us called them flip-flops.  After an extensive five minute search on the internet, I can’t find a thing on Tojos.  Or is it Toehos?  I think Flojos canned the name due to potential “other” toe push back.

But, the best name I’ve ever heard naming the  flip-flop came from my mom.  “Go-Aheads”  …  I’ll let that sink in.  What?  Go-Aheads?  Really?  I have no idea where that came from.  She grew up on the east coast and then around.  I can only imagine a child asking her mom,

Child: Mom? Mom!  Can I wear these to school?

Mom:  uh, go ahead.

It’s just easy.  Kid slips go-aheads on … no socks to locate … we’re done here.

I’m sure I’ve missed other names for these summer Jandals 😉 … anyone have any others?

 

 

No Screen Sunday A.K.A. I’m BORED

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So we play baseball.  … with a tennis ball … and three ball hungry retrievers. This farmer had a hefty day with cows.  But when Otto says, let’s play ball, we can’t resist.  He set the diamond up before breakfast. DSC_0515

Tag him Otto!

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You got him! DSC_0518

Whoops, he got you!

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Z is next at bat.  … er and her side-kick.DSC_0546This is Z.  She jumps and goes.DSC_0569

The boys love baseball.  They are the best catchers.  Still working on being the best droppers. DSC_0565Okay, she’s ready to bat.  Just a few more jumps.

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Brent checks out the pasture as well as the foul ball we need to get back into play.DSC_0556Minty on first base.

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Brent after a pop fly catch.  I’m OUT! Thanks, Jiggy, for your support.

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Most of us bat right, but two of us bat left.

DSC_0525DSC_0589Kevin runs in to throw the ball and finish home run hitter, Brent.

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Lucy distracts by applying fancy Judo techniques.  Yet, Brent slides into home.  Home run! DSC_0597

Kicked Out Of The Queen Anne Paddling Pool

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You don’t have to have three young children to appreciate getting three young children from sub-burb-city parked car to paddle pool. As you can imagine, it’s not easy. Getting from point A – a beautifully paraLLeLLy parked minivan.  To point B – a crisp paddling, kiddie pool.  This should be a no urbanbrainer. Unless, of course, you have three young crazy chooks … blah … kids of your very own.  Because you yourself are crazy for taking your three young chooks to the paddling pool.   Yes, yes boring rhetoric.  So the three young monsters are at the pool, so what?

 

What?  The “swim diaper,” that’s what.  An evil plan direct to you from Huggies.  Huggies, monetized an entire line of diaper based on Phil’s sign that said,  “Welcome to our ‘ool!’  Notice there’s no ‘p’ in it!”  They, Huggies, know that swim diapers do not hold pee in, but rather, hold poo out.  Which brings me to the moment I got kicked out of the Queen Anne paddle pool.  They, an underpaid staff member with first aid training and no reference to my waddler’s poo schedule, told me that my wee one could not wee in the pool and therefore should wear a swim diaper.  But she already took a … and …  But I do not have this swim diaper you speak of?  And before I could get my two older giddy pool-going kids in the pool, I was ostracized.  I became The Lady With The Baby Without The Swim Diaper.  That was me.  And so I packed up, headed back to my beautifully parallel parked minivan and took my weeping non-pool-wet chooks back home.  I think we ate some fruit.

 

Skip to years later in a world that has not adopted the “swim diaper” ( but they exist, damn Huggies Europe ), and I show you what we do on the farm.  A little trick I picked up from the 31.  Roll out silage wrap, spray water … ET VOILA!  slippy sliding magic.  No swim diaper required.  It’s hot.  It’s wet.  Let’s slip!  Let’ slide!

 

We also pop off to the local pool and I’ve been welcomed like a mum who knows her baby.  Never once accused of not swim-diapering my toddler.  Giggles and fun.

 

And when I went back to that pool (yeah, I went back.  Yeah, with the swim diaper.  I feel so used ) before liberating myself to the wild, non-yuppie-poo-freaked-community, I saw a lady with young baby twins without swim-diapers who was about to be told off.  I caught her before Monsieur Staff and hipped her to the yuppie law.  I slipped her a couple S.D.s and told her to get out while there was still time.