Man Caves and Chicken Shit

"I'm bored" was a taboo declaration when I was growing up.  If we dared go there my mom had the perfect retort - "then go shovel out the chicken coop!"  Today, Drew and I started going down the slippery slope of no motivation with a dash of antsy.  There's plenty of shoveling chicken shit equivalent activities we could check off our to do list - but we just can't seem to kick it into gear. 

Marguerite and I did manage to shuffle over to the Smith's garage and scope out their seed supply:

I don't know Wes, it's hard to accept your garage as a man cave with that cute little seed shelf and an Eames Chair placed at an angle in front of a vintage wood stove.  Just saying, it's pretty dandy in there.  Oh, and thanks for the seeds.

Once whining, tired Marguerite gave up the ghost for her afternoon nap I FINALLY packed up the box of her hand-me-downs to be sent to my niece Flora:

This is the second box of clothes I've sent off and I still felt that little pang that comes from the line in the sand that's been drawn declaring her to be our last baby.  Two happy healthy girls is all I need.  It's sharing life with a tiny baby that I'll miss.