Best. Day. Ever.

On a premeditated whim, we decided to take advantage of the incredible weather and explore Lake Wenatchee. We packed light (with a cooler, swimsuits, and towels for us and various books, cars, trucks, sand pail, and shovel, for Noah), and headed off for the Cascades. Needing breakfast, we stopped at the Sultan Bakery for a snack and found out that weekends mean buttermilk bars. I'm not usually a fan of the buttermilk bar, though these are converting me. But there were plenty of other treats to choose from--and choose I did!

• Best part for me: Hanging out at the lake most of the day watching Noah. The air was cool, but the sun was warm. I'm sporting a lovely sunburn, complete with raccoon eyes.

• Best part for Noah: Playing with his cars on the sand and rocks. He built a bridge with driftwood, picked out about twenty rocks "for you, Mama" (and we brought home five), the awesome playground, and finally putting his feet in the water. He lasted longer than me--the water was COLD!

• Best part for Jon: Hmmmmm . . . . Probably much the same as me, minus the burn. He hasn't learned to "bask" like I do. (Maybe that's a good thing for him!) Oh, and the buttermilk bars. How do I know? He stopped on the way home for more!

No complaints...

Today was one of those days that Seattleites try to hide from the rest of the world, because they absolutely sparkle: Clear, light breeze, zero humidity, mid-70s. Krista and I celebrated our anniversary with a nice lunch, a spa treatment for her, some reading time for me, and my favorite: some time to lounge around at the Olympic sculpture park and do absolutely nothing. Oh yes, and Stumptown Coffee on the way home. On days like this, I would be hard-pressed to move anywhere else.

Random things overheard in the Repp household

Dad: (cleverly, at bedtime) Who wants to wear cool dinosaur jammies?
Noah: Not ME!!!

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Noah: Mama, where is the island of Sodor? (Thomas the train reference)
Mom: Oh, I don't know...England, I guess.
Noah: We can go there?
Mom: I don't think so...
Noah: But Jesus wants us to go to Sodor.
Mom: (speechless)
Noah: And we must obey Jesus the FIRST time.

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Noah: Dad, what kind of pancakes are we having?
Dad: Oh, these are all-whole wheat.
Noah: Awful wheat?

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Krista to Jon: Do you know of anyone who wants a cat?
Noah (in the bathroom): I DO!!!

BOB the BUILDER!

...And as Noah pranced around the deck table he belted out the words he knew by heart...

BOB the BUILDER!
(...can we fix it?...)
BOB the BUILDER!
(...yes WE CAN!)

I could continue, but he knows the words much better than I, and Bob, that round-headed guru of all things construction has garnered enough free publicity already in this post.

Plus, his relentless can-do cheerfulness can get on my nerves. (Especially when I am arbitrarily assigned the role of one of Bob's many construction helpers. Noah is almost always Bob.)

It could be worse, though. Bob's certainly a spiffed-up, sanitized version of your stereotypical construction dude, thankfully minus the tats, mullet, plumber's crack and potty mouth.

Plus, the guy is an amazing cook. Yes, really. I submit as proof the recipe that Noah dictated to me while we were working on some pancakes one Saturday morning:

Bob the Builder's Chocolate Bread
-Sugar
-Baking Soda
-Brown Sugar
-Chocolate (12)
-Candy
-Chocolate Cookies

Cook for 20 minutes.

Monster Trucks

What I absolutely love about a 3-year old's mind is its amazing elasticity. Noah will instantly imagine scenarios that we have dismissed even before they were thoughts in our aging brains. Example:

Noah is "driving" one of his favorite cars around on the carpet, and asks, "Daddy, what do you call this truck?" Noting the big wheels and testosterone-soaked lettering, I reply, "That's a monster truck, Noah."

Noah: What does a monster truck do?
Me: It rides around...uh...and...runs over other cars.
Noah: What cars?
Me: Oh, just old cars.
Krista (chiming in): Like the red car! (The gracefully aging maroon Ford Escort that Krista refers to as the "mossmobile" due to an unfortunate lichen issue when it was not properly washed)
Me: No...
Krista (getting warmed up): Or the cars at Grandpa's house! (Where assorted Saabs go to die)
Me: ......
Noah: (ponders this) Does Grandpa have a monster truck?
Me and Krista: NO.

Noah is not convinced, and I'm sure he imagines Grandpa firing up his raised 4x4 and doing a couple of spins around the back 40, (maybe after choir practice on a SUNDAY SUNDAY!!!)....

I wonder if he'll remember about the Monster Truck at Christmas...

Catching up

This is the online home of Jon, Krista and Noah Repp. Where we post our own snarky, personal, and possibly humorous and/or deeply moving takes on the events of the day. Noah will contribute posts at a later time, but for now he is happily contributing material.

For those of you complete strangers just stumbling across our blog, we're truly glad you're here. And I mean that in a broad, vague, impersonal and inoffensive way.

For all of you who DO know something about us, or at least you think you do, then we're truly glad you're here too. And we mean that much more personally.

Welcome.