Veronica was launched off her bike, downhill, forehead first into the curb last night. Nate and I were standing right there with our neighbor, watching in horrific slow motion as she came towards us. She almost fell once, almost fell twice, perhaps a third time, then crashed.

We were lucky. She’s not hurt. Her helmet is banged up, right in front, and now I’m wanting to take the all girls in to be properly fitted with brand new helmets. If she hadn’t been wearing one, or if it had been loose enough to push out of the way, she’d be in the hospital. I have no doubt.

Seriously, her first point of impact was her forehead.

Her hands aren’t even scraped. It was awful.

Nate is painting various colors on the front of our house in a continued search for the right one.

We’re not there yet. But we might be close.

Also, while habitually perusing the new Modernism magazine, Nate spotted an ad for these guys.

Holy cow, we want one. Dang, they’re expensive.