That’s right, my friends: It’s time for another edition of
Potluck:*HeidiStyle™ – Now Travel Sized for My Convenience
*Potluck and all potluck related randomness totally stolen from Holly.

Legal disclaimer: Today's potluck is not shorter than average.
Instead, the words "travel sized" could loosely be interpreted as
"travel themed".

Now with more buttons!

…but probably won’t get one because, hello! it’s May and I’m busy.

• In one week we had three big field trips, including a six-hour train trip to Seattle, a fish dissection class on the Oregon coast, and an evening in Portland for the opera: The Barber of Seville (Figaro-Figaro-Figaro!). Two of these events happened on the same day.

• I thought Shasta was dying.  She wasn’t eating and spent much of her time lying around the house.  Turns out she didn’t like her new brand of dog food.  I switched her and wha-la: she’s back to her old self, chasing squirrels along the fence line.
• Newt ran a local one-mile race for kids.  We are now training for a 5k – her idea.  She confided to me that she likes racing, but doesn’t really like running.  When I told her we didn’t have to do the race, she got all indignant and rolled her eyes at me like I was some kind of raving lunatic.

• Despite the running, I am getting fat-ish. Stop Dieting, Start Potlucking

If you feel you must have a full post on any of these subjects, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.

Newt left this morning for a three day camp-out with her girl scout troop.  I had planned to accompany her, until she *ever so politely asked if I would please stay home.  Turns out she is ready for some adventure on her own.
Don’t tell her, but I was ready for some adventure on my own too. Apparently, adventure for me means Potluck.

Besides, who could eat s’mores after viewing this?

*I feel the need to explain that I was not being sarcastic there.  Newt really did ask respectfully and politely for me to please stay away from her camp-out.

Attention perverts: I’m afraid I do not have what you are looking for when you google:

• mom without her clothes
• brady bunch girls wearing pantyhose
• I could not watch my moms colleague pant

In all fairness, that last one might be from a pet lover and Mom’s colleague could be a thirsty dog.  If so, I apologize for calling you a pervert.

However, to those of you who googled:

• bad home perm
• getting a home perm
• permed mullet
• permutation frantically perms

Sadly, you’ve come to the right place.  But I was 12!  Can’t we all just get over it?  (By the way, not to get all grammar policey, but you should have put a hyphen in perm-mutation.)

It’s out of control.  Clean laundry in a pile on the floor (shoved off the bed last night).  A load in the washer, another in the dryer, yet somehow the baskets are still overflowing onto the floor.  We have three people in this family – how is this situation even possible?

I really should be doing my laundry.

May all your s’mores be murder-free.