Things I hate

A few weeks ago, my friend wrote this post about things that bug her.  At the end she asked what the readers' pet peeves were.  Being such an important question, I've spent the last few weeks thinking about it. So what things bug me: 1. Wet hair.  I hate having wet hair.  I hate the soggy feeling it leaves behind my ears and on my net.  I hate the way it sticks to my forehead.  I hate it.  2. Open toilet seats.  It's like an invitation for a kid to play in.  Or for whatever nasty little creature (I flush more insects than body by-products down our toilet) to climb back up. 3. Spring.

I hate spring.  Fact: it is the worst season ever.  There is very little redeeming about spring, especially here where there is no winter. We have been in a perpetual state of spring for 8 months.  In Utah, or other areas that have winter, spring is a relief from the cold.  But it's not cold here.  Spring is a constant mockery of my desire for summer.  My need to be in the sun.  My love of parks. My freedom that only summer brings.  But spring mocks all that.  It's warm one day, cold the next, sunny but cold, cloudy but warm.  Hot and cold.  Hot and cold.  It's like a bad Katy Perry song.  I can't plan anything because I never know what the next day will bring.  During the summer I know: play outside.  During the winter (in states that are not North Carolina): play inside.  During the spring: only God can tell, and even at that, I wonder if He knows.  And this nonsense has been going on since we moved here.  I don't know who came up with the idea of seasons, but he (all bad ideas come from men) didn't live in the South.  There are two seasons here: sprall and hell.  Sprall being the irritating 8 months of mocking and uncertainty we are still in.  Hell is the oppressive heat and humidity that slowly melts human flesh and pushes it into the earth for 3 months.  But at least then I know what to expect every morning and know how to dress my children.

And now for some pictures.  We did plan to go strawberry picking a week or so ago.  It was a bit cold so nobody wanted to go with us.  I refused to once again be rebuffed by my nemesis spring so we went anyway.  And it wasn't even cold.  It was just not oppressively hot.  We/I picked 11 pounds.  Eight of which Greg made into jam; 3 of which Rex refused to share and is now either running through the sewer system or in my freezer.

He actually picked some.

Alice rode in my front pouch.  She was not super thrilled but did ok.

And obviously, there was a lot of this.

*To be fair, I also disliked spring in Provo.  Like a lot.