SAFETY: A Six-Letter Word that Works Seven Days a Week!

Who doesn't love the Fourth of July? The festivity, the fireworks, the chance to do permanent damage to your person... What fun!

Of course, this is from a girl who grew up with bottle rockets threatening to pierce my ears in a few extra places because of all those BOY things going on. I was shocked--again, I say SHOCKED--to find out just how terrifying even holding a little sparkler could be to my safety-conscious 7- and 9-year-old daughters.



In keeping with her personality, Miriam wasn't afraid. She jumped right in (as expected) and even tried to see what it would feel like to light herself with the sparks. (Whoa there, girl!)

Jane warmed up pretty quickly to all the fun. Glad OSHA wasn't around, though. Emma might have reported us for improper handling.

Speaking of OSHA, our backyard has been a hard-hat zone for a few days as Bill has been working on building a new, bigger, better, stronger, faster swingset for the girls. We were unreasonably limited with our 3-seat swingset, and so we used some birthday gift money to expand on the original design. Here are a few pics of the construction and development:

She can drive a firetruck. She can drive a tractor. There's just no telling what this little lady will be capable of. Out came the old set, and the handy contraption attached to the back of the tractor let us auger some massive holes to sink our new 6"x6" posts a good 3 feet into the ground. This swingset just might see our children's children's children.

Setting the posts. (Note the bare feet, upturned shovel waiting to be stepped on, and the booby-trap trip line Bill's about to get caught on.) Checking for plumb and level. Making a few adjustments. (Look at that face--that's the look of love, girls! Click on an image to see it bigger. Be sure to inhale a lungful of toxic sawdust!)


And before you know it, we've got an operating swingset with room for the whole family.
But wait--what was the title of this post? Easy there, Emma--remember what Officer Buckle would say! Yes, I'm sad to say that THIS (above), all too sadly leads to

THIS!

No, it isn't broken. After 3 doctors appointments and a set of X-rays, we determined that it was just a mild sprain. A few days in a wrap, a lower gear on the swingset, no monkey bars or baseball for a couple of weeks, and she'll be just fine.

All this safety talk, paired with the lead found in herbal supplements and teas packaged in China (where they run over plant materials with trucks on the factory floor to dry them out, apparently, and the fumes from the leaded gas they use contaminate the "health" products) and salmonella in tomatoes, has me reading a few more labels lately. Tell me what you'd make of this:

Can you read that line right on the middle of the bag? It says "A premium quality raw shrimp, cooked ready to serve." Hmmmmm. So just what do I do with that?! About the only thing I can think of that's worse than overcooked shrimp would be tainted, poisonous RAW shrimp. Should I send this one to Jay Leno?

Oh well, what can you do? We can't stop living in order to try to keep living.

Enjoy your days!