Berries and Politics...

Yesterday London and I went with some friends to pick berries at a u-pick ranch in Palo Alto! London was my taster and followed me along testing my bounty. We got loads of raspberries and blackberries and made a scrumdiddlyumptious cobbler last night. Yum! As I picked, I had such a good time and thought to myself, "why do people say we need immigrants to do this kind of labor?" And now I must wax political. Tim and I decided that the whole immigration issue is not discussed in the proper context. Really, the question is do the immigrants, with their labor, benefit our economy enough to outweigh the draws they make on our social programs? No! So rather than talking about building fences or the dreaded amnesty, what we really should be doing is getting rid of the social programs that eat up our tax dollars without solving any of the problems they are meant to. Not only would that address immigration, but it would address the sorry state of welfare in this country. Who doesn't like killing two birds with one stone?

Father's Day

We celebrated Father's Day yesterday. Tim told me not to get him anything, so I tried to be creative in making him feel special without spending a lot. I asked my neighbor to snap some photos of me and London and framed a couple for his desk at work.





My Dad came over for dinner, which was part of the surprise also. We had cashew chicken and orange chicken with homemade fortune cookies. (BTW, Trader Joe's orange chicken was pretty good if you can't get to Panda Express...) The fortunes were "reasons why London and I love you." Thanks to Meagan for the great idea! Dad (Grandpa) brought London a new BYU t-shirt home from Utah, so she had to sport it for our family photo. We also enjoyed the Man vs. Wild marathon on the Discovery channel. I hope I succeeded in making a great Father's Day!

Bedhead

It's a good thing my daughter isn't old enough to be either 1) web savvy enough to know her photo is on the world wide web or 2) be embarassed by it, because if she were she might get back at me by 1) forcing me to play peek-a-boo 68 times in a row at breakfast (as opposed to the usual 37 or so) or 2) dumping the bowl of cheerios on her head and ruining a perfectly good hairdo.