Living with the Fosters

Our family went to the Omni theater movie "Cowboys From Around the World" last week. This film followed the history of cowboying from Morocco, up through Spain, and then over to the
'new world'. Every person in the film was horribly fit and strong looking, and I bet they never had to face a dreadmill at the stinky midway Y in their lives. The movie ended with a family up in British Colombia. The Fosters. This good-looking crew cut trees to make logs for their home, grew their own food, homeschooled the current batch of children, and spent the days outside on horses, doing things that ranchers in the northern climates do. It was quite romantic and lovely. I declared to my family that I truly thought that I was supposed to have been a Foster- that I had ended up a St. Paul city girl by some mistake. That evening passed with several Foster references and jokes and then we all went off to bed. In the morning I awoke at 8am (a horrendously rare occurence here with Sir 6:45 am- Eli). Anyway, upon laying eyes upon Eli for the first time, he gave me a smirk and said, "Oh Mom, the Fosters have been up for hours...you'd never make it in that group." He's probably got a point.