This was the scene just under a block from our downtown.
A wild turkey and a chicken family wandering down the sidewalk.
Funniest. Thing. Ever.

Our little town is quirky, but this is weird even for us.

This was a highlight from an altogether goofy evening earlier this week.
With the close of Tanner’s high school career, we’ve had a few banquets, gatherings and whatnot to attend.
This photo was taken at one such gathering.
A gathering that we almost didn’t make and honestly probably shouldn’t have attempted to make.
It was scheduled during the evening of one of my biggest work events and busiest days of the year.
I knew it would be a hassle, but I knew it meant a lot to Tanner. So I was determined to make it work.

Goofiness set in right away that night.
We might have been close to arriving on time had I not relied on my iPhone to give me directions.
My beloved Siri took me to an address that didn’t even exist in the next town over. (I’m still not on speaking terms with her.)
So we called the host, got directions and showed up 35 minutes late to an event that was only to last an hour and thirty minutes.
(The only reason I got the photos of the funky fowl was because we had to park about a block away due to an abundance of cars that arrived on time and took up the entire street.)
Our late arrival already brought unwanted attention to us, but it didn’t help our cause that I showed up with the only store-bought food for the potluck.
The stay-at-home Spandex mothers looked somewhat stunned.

At first I was upset about it. I even joked with Tanner that I earned the “Unfit Mother Award” for the day.
But he laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Mom, you got me through my first 18-years. You did something right.”
So I decided to shrug it off, too, accept my imperfections and enjoy the evening.
We were there. That was good enough.
In fact, given the day, it was a huge accomplishment.
I realized that, true to my parenting style, I’d done the best I could. And sometimes my best isn’t pretty.
I’d have loved to have shown up on time with some home-baked goodness and minimal stress, but it wasn’t possible that day.
I have a job and responsibilities. I also have two kids that I love and support.
And on that particular day, both knew that they were important to me — even if it meant the sponsors of the potluck had to suffer through my contributions in plastic containers with bar code labels.