when you're favorite place in the world is your {neighbor's} backyard

Tonight the kids tumbled in bed late, smelling like campfire and pinging off the walls from an hour-long sugar rush and the frenzy that comes from being around a fire.

And who can blame them. Because the warmth of a fire, the smoky air, and the crackles and pops of the blaze are some of the best stuff of life. 

First we ate s'mores. 

Then came the doughboys.

Isaac informed us that if you wear an eye patch, it keeps out half the smoke. Genius. (Add that to the camping packing list.)

And there was music and stories and whining and cries of foul play and all the other noises that make up the soundtrack of our lives.

And once again I was thankful for the rowdy but happy bunch that I share a roof with.

And once again life was that much sweeter because we live next to some crazy-but-strangely-like us kind of people.

And once again I am reminded that life in community equals laughter and memories and is, in fact, the stuff of childhood legends, eye patches and all. 

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