Brent ran a half marathon yesterday…and then we picked up our nephews on the way home and he proceeded, not to fall into a heap of tears and whining on the living room floor as I would have done, but rather to play baseball and other games with them! What a trooper.
The boys absolutely love their Uncle Brent :)

While Brent was running his half marathon, I met up with a friend/colleague from Louisville who was in town for her brother's wedding. Small world. It was so great to see an old familiar face. And she brought with her this package which some of my coworkers from Louisville had jammed full of notes and gifts and inside jokes and wonderful memories. It was truly one of the best packages I have ever received in my life. And I went through its contents with tears: tears of joy for all the wonderful memories it contained, tears of blessing of the wonderful friends I gained in my time there, and also some tears of sadness in my missing them so much. I couldn't even explain all the stories it held if I wanted to!
A box full of love.
This was on of the contents of the box: It was a copy of the letter of recommendation one of my colleagues and dear, dear friend, Jenn wrote for me when I was applying for the job here.

These are backward because either Blogger or my Mac is weird. Anyway, here are the marathon pics I promised. Here is a very tired Brent before we got in the car. He is proudly wearing his GOLD medal :) Doesn't it look like SO MUCH FUN to run 13.1 miles all at one time?!! ? Yeah, I don't think so.
Crossing the finish line. 1:41. Unbelievable if you ask me.
It pains me too even look at this. Actually, looking at this makes me feel like I need a tall glass of water…excuse me for a moment.

Practicing her beautiful smile with Paige

She's learning how to really ham it up for the camera if you can't tell
Eventually she loosened up a bit and started singing along
Helping Nana stir
If you know Caroline, then you know she likes to help out/be involved in whatever you are doing. Here she is helping Uncle Brent play the guitar.
Here she is helping Nana make brownies

One day Papa and CJ went outside and were busy for hours. When she came back in, she was filthy…because Papa had let her dig around in the fire pit for awhile. She was also very thirsty. Those two….
And it's no secret that her favorite reason for visiting Missouri is Scout, Nana and Papa's runaway dog ["runaway" because she showed up at their house one day a year and a half ago, and "runaway" because she follows them to town every single day, running the entire 2 or 3 miles…she's crazy…but I digress]. Caroline absolutely goes ecstatic every time she sees her. Here she is chasing Scout across the yard while squealing with pure delight.
And that is all for now. Thanks for being okay with the random compiling of different topics. In review:
-Caroline and Kali came to visit. They are awesome. She loves Scout. Dad lets her get really dirty.
- Brent ran a 1/2 marathon. He is ridiculous athlete.
- We kept our nephews and had fun.
- M coworkers/friends from Louisville sent me the best package ever. It made me cry.
3 comments:
um. Brent is Ridiculous. Also, Caroline has the cutest smile, but you already knew that : )
thanks hannah. I've thought about getting my name changed to brent ridiculous irwin, but kelsey won't let me.
Thanks for putting up pictures kelsey, i appreciate it and i know it takes forever. Big C is so funny in those pictures.
Good stuff as usual. Thanks for putting it up.
Dad
Post a Comment