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An odd Sunday

 This morning it was pouring. This isn't entirely unusual for the greater Seattle area, but after a long stretch of dry days it's easy to forget the bone chill you get when soaked after getting caught in a rain whose volume is constant and feels as though it won't ever end again.
 After a productive morning of errands around the house, the two year old went up to her room to play and starts calling out "WATER! WATER!"...
 With some confusion we try to discern whether or not to respond verbally or to go see what to what she is referring. Her sister went into her room and declared that there was a drip coming from the ceiling. I ran a bucket to the room and started catching the drip that was coming through a small hole in the drywall surrounded by bubbling.
 This led to the wife and i pulling out the ladder and while she's been there before, it's the first time after almost three years of living here that i've been in the attic. She took a bucket down the crawl space to the area above the bedrooms and found where a nail hole had been sealed but given away to the elements over time. A small drip was running down the nail and had soaked the insulation and wet the ceiling.
 This course of events later led to us getting a tarp and covering the section of the roof until we can get it repaired. That isn't the oddest, and frankly coolest part. While up in the attic we took a look at some of the things that were up there.
 The house we live in was built (personally) by my wife's grandfather. Her grandparents lived her for fifty years before passing away. Her mother grew up here. And her uncle who passed away when she was four or five grew up here.
 My wife loves the outdoors. Hiking is for her what going to church is to for my mother. The same could be said of her uncle. From everything i've heard and from all photo evidence the man loved the outdoors and did little else than hike and mountaineer. While up in the attic we found a box labeled with his name. In it we found mountaineering and climbing notes, a high school year book, and a pile of photos. Pretty incredibly it seems her uncle had taken photos of scenic mountain top views and pieced them together with tape to make panoramic photos long before the technology was readily and cheaply available that we take for granted these days with it built into our phones.
 On many of the photos of mountains he had drawn the routes he had taken up and in some cases several he had taken on various trips. In the journals he had taken many detailed notes of climbs and hikes, elevations, and times. He drew sketches and created charts.
 We spent a portion of the morning going through these and enjoying connecting to this small piece of a family none of us knew very well and particularly finding this shared passion between my wife and her uncle as though it could have run in their blood.


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Stories from the back seat

"I saw a giant spider eat everybody.""Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "You saw it EAT everybody, huh?" "Then it shrank down into a tiny spider." "But after it had eaten everyone?" "Yes. It was a giant, magic spider that became a tiny spider." "And you saw it eat everyone?" "Yes." "So it didn't eat everyone; it didn't eat you." "Last week when sister's school had no power she lied and said it was a giant tree that fell on the power lines, but it wasn't. It was the giant, magic spider and he ate them." "How do you know?" "I saw it!" "But how did you see it if you were at school?" "I saw it with my magic eyes. You didn't know I have super power magic eyes." "No, no I didn't." <then she changed the subject as though I wouldn't have a dozen follow up questions to that.>

Wrapped around her finger

I spent the greater part of last evening crammed inside a small princess tent in the living room with our one and half year old. I sat patiently inside while she entertained herself zipping the doors closed and opening them again to run around and play peek-a-boo through the windows.
 Every time i attempted to leave to go do something else, i was dragged back and put in my place sitting hunched over in a canvas cave of pink polka dots.
 I am not too proud to admit that each time she came up and shouted "Daddy!" in indignation that i should think i could get away from her and grabbed my finger, my heart melted a little as her tiny hand led me away.
 I love those moments and others like them an wouldn't trade it for a single thing in the world.

 [The view reminded me of the #followmeto pictures from @muradosmann and @yourleo on instagram.]