It was a wild week in Northcutt land.

After putting up with sick children and an out of town husband we treated Marla to a breakfast at Cibo in Sausalito. The lattes and donuts flowed freely. Cora enjoyed a play date with a friend from school and the Girl Scouts kept us hydrated and poodled.

The highlight – or lowlight, I suppose – was poor Obsidian being taken by a predator of some sorts. We forgot to close the coop doors for the night and I woke up at 3 am to squawking and flapping. As any good farmer would, I ran outside barefoot and in my underwear shouting, “Hya! Hya! Get out!” at the top of my lungs.

By the time I got to the top of the hill all that was left of Obsidian was a big pile of feathers. The other chickens had escaped unharmed but they knew something was up. It was a bit sad to see them walking around calling for the other chicken.

Alas, poor Obsidian. We did not know ye well.

Nothing says, “Good morning!” like a table full of lates.

Henry chowing down on a donut from Cibo in Sausalito.

Disaster struck last night, with poor Obsidian being eaten by… something.

Capping off Pajama Day at school with an ice cream and a play date.

A bright bowl of sunshine ready for drinking.

Emma attended a Girl Scout sock hop looking quite dashing in her poodle skirt and heels.

These pants have been passed down through three generations of 40 year olds. I look forward to bequeathing them to Henry when the time comes.

Happy birthday to me!