Call off the global warming alert. It's freakin' freezing today!

That's all I've got right now. Daddy is doing some show for the law school and has been largely unavailable to log me into my Blogspot account and edit my prose for me.

Football practice started this Saturday (that's soccer for all you nose-picking yahoos out there). Having already developed a bit of expertise in the area of kicking, I soon expect to be joining the ranks of legends such as Pele, Maradonna and Escobar (minus the own goal and the getting killed).
The last thing you want to do on the first day of practice is pull a hamstring. Coach had us engaged in a rigorous stretching regimen that involved reaching up...

And touching the toes.

Presto, ready to play.

I was all amped up to scrimmage, but Coach said we had to do some lame-o drills before we could start mixing it up. So I waited patiently...

...lined up my shot...

...blew past the defense, and...

Gooooooalagoalagoalagoalagoala!!!!! Nothing but net.

Much to my dismay, I'm the shortest, scrawniest 3 year-old out there. Hopefully, I'll also be the scrappiest. I promise more action shots in the next few weeks-- the photographic kind, not the Escobar kind.

Bully for global warming! To all those negative nellies out there who want to reduce emissions and save our species from mass extinction, I submit to you this: 80 degrees in early March. If this is Armageddon, then sign me up! I mean, what a great day to...
1) Have a picnic in the backyard.

2) Do some civil engineering (here, daddy and I demonstrate what the Route 29 bypass around Charlottesville could look like-- if it were built out of sand)

3) Work on my jump shot. (Check out the textbook follow-through-- classic J.J. Redick, n'est-ce pas? Just need to work on my trash-talking.)

In preparation for conquering the great peaks of Washington State this summer, I set out yesterday on a trial run up one of the great peaks of Charlottesville.

I brought only the essential supples-- my Thomas The Tank Engine shoes and my two sherpas:

Mush! I need to be at the first base camp by sundown!

Thanks for the extra hand, ma'am. Your assistance will be reflected in your sherping fee.

There's nothing quite as rewarding as getting to the summit:

Right after this picture was taken, I put down an American flag and claimed this mountain in the name of the United States.

I figure after yesterday I'm in pretty good shape to tackle this puppy:

It looks small in the picture. About an inch high, in fact.

My Uncle Wren got me a video about the state capitals, so that's the next step in my plan to memorize every useless fact in the world. I've gotten about a third of them down, and with only a month to go until the preliminary rounds of the National Geography Bee (Toddler division).

Just don't ask me what a "capital" is. Or a "state" for that matter.

As part of the mom's club lecture series "Know Your Public Servants," I got to go on an exclusive tour of the local fire station. Dad came along in part because he's on spring break and in part to make sure Mommy wasn't "seduced by any muscular pieces of firefighting man-meat." (his words-- not sure what he meant there)

I came prepared in case they needed an extra hand to man the hook and ladder:

Fireman Dave demonstrated proper use of a gas mask in case of a terrorist chemical attack, a deadly viral outbreak, or when daddy cuts loose with a "silent-but-deadly." The key is not to panic.

All in all, one of the greatest experiences of my life. Which reminds me-- I was featured in The Onion a few weeks ago (under an alias) waxing eloquent about my love of all things fire-related. Check it out here.

Next week-- the good folks at the sanitation department lecture us on the topic "Out Of The Butt, Into The River." Stay tuned.