Della and George enjoy playing on this gate.
Della says she might want to be a trapeze person or acrobat-er when she grows up.
Playhouse in progress.
D&G were sweeping these petals into piles and then transferring them in boxes to their room where they spread them all over everything including in their dresser drawers. Della said, “I keep getting in trouble but I’m a very good girl so I don’t know why!!”
And this is one of the chicks they “incuvated” in Della’s kindergarten classroom.
Our good friend Walter died on April 27, exactly two years after our arrival in Utah. Della says: “Our family doesn’t feel the same.”
George used his money from grandma to buy…another bouncy horse. He has four now.
Della took this picture of us at our old stomping grounds, Reed College!
It was 8:30 a.m. when we arrived. We told the kids to be quiet because the 20-year-olds were sleeping.
George said, why are they sleeping at their school? We said, because they live here. He said, they’re orphans?!?
We were struck by what a nice place Reed is, especially when we toured the library, where we found a few hidden beers.
Now we’re back home, just doing the usual.
Naked and Afraid: Monkey Style is what Della said we should call our Naked and Afraid spin-off, in which the humans befriend a monkey who teaches them to survive in the jungle.
Here they are in their respective shelters.
Naked and Afraid is a show we watch almost every night. Watching starving, shivering survivalists from the comfort of our bed is our idea of hygge. We let the kids watch it, too, because we think they can learn useful things, like how to appreciate heat and a reliable source of protein. They have seen so many people eat snakes on this show that they will tell you, “You can eat snakes. They’re really good.”
Since we resubscribed to cable, this seems like the last watchable show on earth, a field guide to the coming apocalypse.
Here is an excerpt from the Monkey-Style theme song.
It was great to have a jungle-smart monkey helping us as we built fire and foraged for food and stuff like that. He said, “I can use this stick to get water out of bamboo because I’m a smart little monkey.”
He decided his name would be Storm. I asked if we could call him Stormy and he was ok with it.
Over time, George morphed from a monkey to a lemur. We casually suggested that maybe his mommy had died and that’s why he was living with us and then he started to cry. “It’s just a game,” I told him. But he was inconsolable.