In the past few days, the following events have transpired:
Ellen did her own hair (with copious amounts of hair gel) while I sat in the next room at my computer playing Hangman and yelling, “I’ll be there in a second to do your hair Ellen!” (That’ll teach me). She models below.
Cecilia finally decided that a sippy cup was worth a try. I cheered for her loudly (I believe that she is a “Words of Affirmation” kind of girl) and she smiled and posed for pictures.
Then she pushed her tray off of her high chair and it landed squarely on the top of my foot. I have a giant bruise and am actually sort of surprised that my foot is not broken.
The air-conditioner man finally came to fix our ailing unit.
Cecilia climbs up stairs now, which I’m thankful to have noticed when she was only three stairs up, as opposed to ten or more.
So now, for all of us to access our inner Thoreau, we’re heading up to a cabin on the lake for four days, with my mom and stepdad, brother, sister and brother-in-law, two of their three girls, and our dogs. Yes, Thoreau was completely alone, and obviously the differences don’t end there. For one, I don’t think he was roasting marshmallows over his fires, which he probably did not light with water-resistant matches. Also, I think Thoreau did actually manage to simplify his life, whereas (let’s be honest) our excursion may actually increase the stress which we’re trying to diminish. But we’re ready for anything that does not resemble our day-to-day existence in St. Louis Park. Dave has skillfully squeezed all of our stuff into our sedan, I’ve dutifully reminded him that a minivan is both roomy and accessible, and the girls have saturated their brains with way too much Sesame Street while their parents did all this preparing. Extremely amusing memories-in-the-making await us. 
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